


Hidden Gems

by gold_pebble



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Harry Hart, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, M/M, Masturbation, Nesting, Omega Eggsy Unwin, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostitution, Recreational Drug Use, Rutting, Scenting, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 03:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14204373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gold_pebble/pseuds/gold_pebble
Summary: Hidden Gemsis an elite, exclusive facility that offers the best services to the alphas in need. Their omegas are healthy, young, and ready to do anything their alpha for the night suggests.The facility promises to respect the privacy of their clients, no matter what happens between the sheets.Aka: Harry is a very busy alpha who forgets when his next rut is up to, so Merlin takes care of it and books him a pretty omega named Eggsy.





	1. Thursday

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly thought 'Gems' was written with a 'j', like in 'Jem and the Holograms'. I'm 18 and I've never seen a single episode of that show.
> 
>  
> 
> Note: this chapter is pretty much here just because I don't like writing porn without giving a little plot before, so... but I promise the next chapters will be porn!
> 
> Note 2: my mother language is not English, so there might be mistakes. Any correction/advice will be more than welcome.

Harry Hart might not have been the most technologically advanced spy in the world – or even in the British Islands, for that matter, and Merlin would’ve never stopped making fun of him for typing with his pointer –, but he _indeed_ checked his emails at least every two days, and _always_ made sure to delete all what he didn’t care for.

It had to be said that, since he didn’t have friends nor family members who wrote him, the whole process was fairly quick and easy. All what he had to be sure to keep were the mails containing his missions details, and those had all been sent by Merlin.

So he was indeed surprised when, on Thursday afternoon, right after lunch, he found a new email that had been sent by a site named _Hidden Gems_ and whose title was ‘Thank you for your purchase!’.

The missions he had been through in the last months had been hard on him, both physically and mentally, but he couldn’t recall hitting his head hard enough to forget the actions that he committed, nor to commit actions he wasn’t used to. So, his brow furrowed and his eyebrows met in the middle, eyes squinting as if he couldn’t properly read what was written on the screen even if he was wearing his glasses.

On the armchair across the room, Merlin, who was fiddling with his tablet, moved uncomfortably, crossing his legs. Even if Harry was able to see his friend only with his peripheral vision, he noticed Hamish’s face was turning of a light shade of red that stretched from his chin to the top of his forehead.

Before doing anything, Harry tried to remember who else, beside Merlin, other Kingsmen, and his cousin, knew his mail, and if he ever recalled sleepwalking.

  “Merlin…”

And Hamish coughed awkwardly, shifting again on the armchair.

  “ _Hamish_ , what have you done?”

Merlin turned the tablet off and put it on his lap before massaging his eyes, somehow managing to do so without taking his glasses off. “I booked an omega for you,” he explained, shame dripping from his voice.

The sentence floated mid-air in the office, heavy and pregnant with meaning, before Harry’s ears were able to catch it, and it took even more time for his brain to process Hamish’s words. To say the truth, needing so much time to understand what had been just said to him wasn’t something Harry was used to; his job required a quick, sharp mind able to response to all what happened around him as soon as it happened.

He blinked, the light that illuminated the study suddenly too bright, and he too shifted on his chair. And _finally,_ when he caught meaning of Merlin’s words, only a whisper came out of his lips. “Oh, _no_.”

Merlin sighed, still massaging his eyes.

  “I’m _truly_ sorry, Harry. You know I wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t _absolutely_ necessary.”

As stupid as it might’ve sounded, Harry couldn’t find a reason why finding him an omega was something so compelling: his rut was still more than a week away, he had plenty of time to walk into a pub and flirt with an omega willing to spend a few days in bed with him. After all, he might’ve been getting old – well, not _that_ old, mind him – but he had his manners, and he managed to look far more than decent when wearing the right suit.

But then doubt infiltrated into his thoughts, and he had to retrieve his planner from one of the drawers of his desk. Could he have forgotten when his own rut was? He hadn’t done that in years!

In fact, Harry had always been very precise to whatever matters regarded his rut, to the point of never miscalculating one in _decades_. Every two months, he sat down and used fifteen minutes of his time to calculate meticulously, with the help of the planner he had been using since the day he had presented as an alpha, when his next rut was going to be, and therefore, took the necessary days off of work. And he had _never_ , ever forgotten a single one of them.

He went through the pages of his planner, watching absently minded the numerous dates he had written over time, until the last page he had signed. The last one he had written down announced his next rut on Friday… the following day, Harry realized with horror. The small, red dot he had drawn beside the date indicated that he had already taken the days off.

Breathing in and out, calmly, trying to focus on his actions, Harry put the planner away and adjusted the watch around his wrist.

He had been busy, that was all. His last mission had been to Moscow, and it had tired him out to the point that, when he had finally gotten home, he had fainted in his bed and had stayed there for almost two whole days. It was perfectly normal to forget things, especially when they were part of the routine.

His sanity was still there; he wasn’t getting crazy.

He breathed in again in an attempt at making the shame that was burning in his chest recede.

  “There was no need to…”

But, as soon as he spoke those words, Harry remembered how miserable he had been during his last rut, with his face pressed into one of the pillows, crying because he couldn’t find the relief he was seeking, and recognized he was terribly, _terribly_ wrong.

* * *

 

In the following hours, Harry found himself handling the first signs of his upcoming rut, and hid in his office for the rest of the working day.

With the tip of his tongue, he could feel the sharp edges of the fangs nature had given him to mark and protect his omega of choice. It was useless to day he had never used them for such purposes, as he had never had a mate, but he had _indeed_ used them to slash throats when he had found himself deprived of weapons and gadgets.

His cock, however, didn’t begin to swell until he walked home, and Harry was incredibly grateful to his body for that, because walking around with a hard on for hours would’ve been unreasonably uncomfortable and inappropriate.

Once he got home, Harry took his suit off and bathed in warm water, scrubbing his skin with a hard sponge and doing his best to ignore his aching cock. To do so, he thought about the _poor_ , _exploited_ omega who would’ve been knocking at his door the next day, and the sole thought that they had to sell their bodies in order to get on for another day made him miserable enough to desire he could’ve been born a beta.

He cooked dinner and sat at the kitchen table to eat it, wondering if Mr Pickles should’ve stayed in the bathroom or if he should’ve moved it from his shelf above the toilet but, after realizing that, if he moved the dog, by coherency, he had to move the butterflies too, Harry decided Mr Pickles would’ve maintained his position.

Before getting into bed, Harry took two sleeping pills – the ones that knocked him out for nine hours – and took his laptop from the bedside table; he still hadn’t opened the email from _Hidden Gems_ , and curiosity was eating him alive.

Once he opened it, the first and only thing he was able to see was the smiling face of the omega Merlin had chosen for him. Harry blinked, taken aback by the doe eyes the young omega sported, and by the sharp line of his jaw, a characteristic very few omegas sported and that Harry had always found to be attractive. A tuff of blonde hair had managed to escape the restrain of his rather horrendous snapback, and it reached one of his quirked eyebrows. And his lips… oh _, his lips…_ so pink and pretty, with the lower lip a little plumper than the upper one. The omega probably always looked like he was pouting, when he wasn’t smiling.

A low growl ran in Harry’s throat, as his mouth watered and fangs dropped. He wanted to take hold of the omega, push him onto his bed, scent him all over until all what other alphas would’ve been able to smell was _his_ smell. He wanted to mark his neck, scar it with the sign of his fangs and teeth, bite into it until his mouth had the taste of his blood…

Horrified at his own reaction, Harry slammed the computer shut and pushed it away from him.

He wouldn’t have fucked the omega; it was against everything he had always believed in, taking advantage of someone in need. His fangs could drop as much as they wanted, and his cock could get hard as many times as he wanted, but Harry was _not_ , in any way, going to take advantage of that boy.


	2. Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished writing this chapter on my bullet journal on the 12th of April. I don't know what happened in between.

Exhaustion came in many forms, as Harry had discovered after becoming a _Kingsman_ agent. Merlin’s stress and tiredness showed themselves in a receding hairline that had made the man begin shaving his head from the young age of thirty-five. Harry’s fatigue, however, was far more subtle, as it left him all of his hair and a rather agile body, but took away all of his dreams.

Not a single nightmare nor fantasy usually crossed Harry Hart’s mind as he slept. As soon as his head hit the pillow and his eyes closed, the man was dead to the world until the alarm clock beside the bed ringed.

But that night, Harry dreamt.

He dreamt of soft, scorching hot skin under his palms, of smooth and strong thighs against his cheeks, of a body bathed in red light and deep shadows. His nose was filled with the sugary scent of an omega close to his heat, and his ears were filled with the sweet sounds of an omega who was desperately close to orgasm.

Harry awoke with a start, surging from his pleasant dreams to find himself with his hands clutching on the sweat-drenched sheets of his bed and with the distinct taste of blood coating his mouth.

 _His fangs_ , he realized before giving a tentative lick to his teeth and finding them completely unsheathed. Their sharpness almost cut his tongue again.

As he shifted between the blankets and pillows, fighting against his own pyjama shirt, which had stuck to his back with sweat, he decided it wasn’t a good time to get up yet. Of course, the rational part of his mind was telling him to do so; he had to shower, change the sheets in favour of clean ones, arrange the guest bedroom, cook something for breakfast before the omega showed up, but the sleeping-pills he had ingested the night before soon killed every thought that required his feet on the ground.

He tried to open an eye, but everything was blurry, and there was absolutely no need for him to get out of bed _that_ early, so he flipped the pillow, rolled over, and fell asleep again.

* * *

 

The second time Harry awakened, that day, was because of the shouting couple right under his bedroom window. As he laid in bed, stretched on the mattress and eyes pointed at the white ceiling, he recognized their voices; they were a couple who lived down the street and they _often_ got into fights in front of his house, as that wasn’t the first time Harry happened to hear them.

In fact, listening to their angry shouts was quite entertaining, as their insults were as creative as insults could get, and there was a clear and interesting effort put into having the last word. Even if Harry had never seen them – he was only able to recognize them from their voices –, he found them to be almost as fascinating as some of his butterflies.

As their voices began to wander away – Harry couldn’t tell if they were simply bringing their fight to another location, or if they were simply getting tired of shouting –, the effect of the pills did too; together, his mind and body arose from the deep slumber they had fallen into the previous night.

The fangs retired into the sheaths in his gums, bringing the taste of blood once again in his mouth, and a delicious ache spread below his waist, warming his thighs in the buzz of pure excitement, rather than the desperate horniness he was expecting.

Whenever his muscles warmed so, Harry wondered if that was what Mr Pickles felt whenever he got home after a long mission. The memory of the tiny brown terrier jumping around, barking, scratching his legs until he was picked up was something Harry had always held on dearly. As he got older, the poor thing would also pee himself a little, making droplets of urine stain Harry’s suits. It was in those times, when he took the dirty suit off and studied it to understand if it was worth cleaning or if it would’ve been easier just tossing it, that Harry was grateful to his bladder, which was still holding on and functioned perfectly.

It was then that Harry decided he couldn’t waste even more of his morning in bed. There were still _many_ things to do, and he didn’t want to push them further into the day.

Hauling himself out of bed turned out to be an unexpected challenge; not only he had slept far more than he was used to – in his whole life, Harry couldn’t remember waking up to see the clock read a quarter to eleven – and going back to a vertical position felt somewhat unnatural, but there were also his ankles, that hurt whenever his weight wasn’t correctly balanced on them. His last mission to Moscow had almost destroyed them, and it had been worse than the micro-fractures he was now used to. Merlin hadn’t stopped hissing and fussing for a whole week, calling him a _bloody_ idiot for thinking he could jump from a two-story building with little to no consequences.

As he adjusted himself on his feet, he could hear them popping and cracking.

The phone on the bedside table, strategically placed far from the alarm clock – so that, if Harry slammed his hand on the surface of the table in an attempt at hitting the clock to shut it off, he wouldn’t have abused his phone too – buzzed a few times, but Harry didn’t spare a single glance to it, as he already knew who was calling him at such hour and at his _personal_ number; he didn’t need Merlin to remind him that a gorgeous yet horrendously dressed omega was going to knock at his door before noon, nor he needed to hear whichever detail Hamish had found when watching – once again – the recordings of his interview with the boy.

The boy was coming, and that was it.

Barefooted and without glasses, Harry made his way to the bathroom, where he took a shower, washing himself thoroughly, as he knew very well that, once the rut would’ve kicked in, no thought about proper hygiene would’ve crossed his hormone-dazed mind. After the shower he shaved his face and combed and straightened his hair, pushing them back with just a little of hair wax to make sure he would’ve maintained at least part of the pristine look he sported at the office.

Being his skin already sensible to any kind of touch, Harry found no possibility than to wear soft, worn out clothes; a white button up shirt whose sleeves were too large around his arms, brown trousers he had hemmed himself many years before, and his burgundy slippers without socks – although he found it to be rather unhygienic. Such attire, in a normal occasion, would’ve meant he was going to spend a lazy Sunday tastefully drinking scotch while reading and with his feet propped up in front of a lit fire. But with the rut settling... with the rut settling, wearing such clothes meant being slightly less uncomfortable than with his usual suits, as his cock was swollen and pressed against the trousers zip. It didn’t quite hurt, but it was an annoying reminder that he could unbutton said trousers and stroke himself to satisfaction.

However, there were still a few hours – a whole day if he was truly lucky – before his hormones would take him over and make him grind into the mattress in a desperate search for some relief, and he wanted to prepare as much as possible, even if part of his mind was lost in the fantasy of fucking that omega against one of the walls, with his legs tight around his waist.

After preparing himself, Harry made up his bed with fresh sheets and blankets and did the same to the one in the guest bedroom, where the omega would’ve slept in the following days.

Once he was done with the bedrooms, he decided to prepare a proper fry up, ignoring the etiquette that told him the hour was too late for breakfast. In the kitchen, he peeled enough potatoes for two, opened a can of beans, took the sausages out of the freezer. As everything cooked, although the smell was delicious, he forced himself to open the window, so that the whole house wouldn’t have taken the smell of fried eggs and roasting tomatoes.

And the doorbell rang.

The wooden spoon he was stirring the beans with almost fell into the pot. The omega couldn’t be there _yet_ ; for the first time in his life, Harry whished there was no one but Hamish, at the other side of the door. It was _too_ soon, he wasn’t ready.

            Harry’s throat and mouth got dry in an instant, and his stomach knotted. The picture of the young, smiling omega was back in his mind, and so were the fantasies he had had under the shower. He could see himself biting into the boy’s shoulder, drawing blood with his fangs and nails until the omega was all marked; licking his dripping hole, pushing his face into the sweet wetness of the boy until his jaw ached and his tongue lost sensitivity; laying on his back so that the omega could ride him, holding him down and giving him only what he was worthy of.

In his briefs, his cock pulsed in interest, and a pool of heat spread in his lower abdomen. A quick glance downwards, and Harry discovered that the outline of his erection was visible through the brown fabric. Ashamed and with his cheeks coloured of a bright shade of red, he un-tucked the shirt from the trousers and arranged it so that nothing too obvious could be seen. He surely looked sloppy, as if he had just awakened and had dressed in a rush. It was distasteful, but the idea of opening the door with his hard cock in sight was far worse.

As he walked down the corridor for the entrance, Harry took in a deep breath, and when he opened the door, he let it all out.

On the doormat, stood the omega, awful snapback hiding from view his hair, and Harry would’ve liked to say he had been taken aback by the beauty of the boy two steps from him, but truth was, the poor thing smelled _terribly_. The omega’s natural scent was completely covered by that of detergents, old smoke, cheap weed, and _McDonald’s_ food, and his clothes – grey trackies and hoodie – reeked of dirty skin and unwashed hair. It took him all of his will, to not gag or wrinkle his nose in disgust; that omega _needed_ a long shower.

“Name’s Eggsy,” the omega introduced himself, offering Harry a hand.

As he shook it, he couldn’t but notice that Eggsy’s skin was clammy and sticky, and his palm and fingers callused.

What had happened to that poor, _poor_ thing?

Harry tried to study his face, see if there were visible signs of torture, but under the omega’s polite smile and absolutely stunning features, there was nothing but a hint of annoyance.

“Harry Hart,” he said, letting Eggsy’s hand go. Even if the omega was filthy, it didn’t mean he couldn’t be a gentleman. “Please, come in.”

The omega stepped in his house, duffel bag trailing after him and trainers leaving pieces of dry soil behind him, as if he was Hansel and needed a trail of crumbles to get out of the forest. _Gentleman,_ Harry reminded himself, and helped Eggsy in by putting a light hand on his arm. At the touch, the omega jerked violently, jumping forward. Although he didn’t say anything, Harry dropped his hand and closed the door.

Now that he could observe Eggsy better, Harry recognized that the omega, although as short as his nature required him to be, wasn’t in any way _tiny_. Under the stained hoodie, Eggsy had strong, broad shoulders, and thick and muscular thighs. After showering, getting his hands manicured, having his hair cut, and wearing a suit that fit him properly, Eggsy could’ve looked like a _Kingsman_ agent – or a very capable candidate for such position.

“Smokin’ doesn’t bother y’, yeah?”

The omega spoke with a very strong cockney accent, and Harry found it to be incredibly amusing. It had been a long time, since he had heard or had been allowed to speak with such pronunciation.

A cigarette, after all, wouldn’t have done anything but good to the both of them. “Yes, of course.” The smile that beamed on Eggsy’s face melted some of the stress Harry’s shoulders and back had accumulated during the course of the morning. “I’d offer you one of mine, but I fear I smoked the last one at least six months ago.”

Well, that wasn’t exactly accurate: he had stolen one from Percival just the day before, but that didn’t mean he had a packet right _then and there._

The shining smile wandered, and the omega’s dark eyebrows scrunched up in a slightly confused expression as he crunched down to open his duffel bag, and took from it what appeared to be a ball of tinfoil.

The smell of it reached Harry’s nose, and _never_ in his life he had felt more stupid. _Of course_ Eggsy wasn’t going for a smoke.

“I’m sorry, Eggsy, I think I misunderstood,” he said gently, as if he was talking to a child rather than to a man in his early twenties. The smile on Eggsy’s face froze, leaving a bleary gaze. “I’d very much prefer knowing that no one gets…” he gestured towards the bag, looking for a word that could sound more gentlemanly than the disgraced ‘high’, “ _inebriated_ in my house.”

Again, Harry felt like a hypocrite: hidden in the last drawer of his bedside table, under and between old socks whose thread was consumed in more than one place, there was a tin box filled to the brim with weed. He smoked it when his bones hurt from the many breaks they had went through in the years, or when the muscles of his back were so tight the stress that came from them made his head ache. Or when he was dreadfully bothered.

“I promise I’m more fun when I’m baked,” Eggsy tried, drawing a cross over his heart with his free hand. “I swear, bruv.”

Harry sighed, and let himself fall on the stairs beside them. He could only _imagine_ what kind of nightmare Eggsy’s life was and the reason why he needed to be high off of his arse whenever he was with a client. With his head in his hands, Harry looked at the boy between his eyelashes. “Eggsy,” he began, doing his best to avoid talking like an idiot – as he had done before. “I’m sure you are a kind, dear boy who perfectly knows what he is doing, but…”

Eggsy interrupted him, rolling his eyes. “You like ‘em kicking and screaming, yeah?” He let the ball of tinfoil and weed fall back into the bag. “No problem, bruv. Done this before. No one will know, keeping everythin’ to myself, yadda yadda. Your friend didn’t say this, tho, so… I want more for that.”

The thought of having his partner struggle under him, kick and scream – maybe even cry out of desperation and pain –, made him nauseous. He looked at Eggsy, his pretty face and green eyes, how empty and sad they were under the brave façade the omega was pulling. It took him a while, to have his voice back: “No, Eggsy… absolutely, I…”

“You ‘ad an omega wit a face like mine, but now you’re alone ‘cause _reasons,_ and you want me to put on their clothes and act like ‘em?”

“No, I…”

“Oh, I gotcha! You’ve got an omega son you fuck behind your ex-wife’s back, but now he’s got university or whatever, and you need someone his age to knot up?”

Harry couldn’t hide the dread inside of him anymore; he was staring at Eggsy with wide eyes and an agape mouth, not quite sure how to handle such situation. All those stories sounded far too personal and detailed to be something Eggsy had heard from someone else or from the cousin of a friend.

“ _Absolutely not_ , Eggsy.”

Before he could explain his reasons, Eggsy scrunched up his nose in a suspicious expression. The boy didn’t trust him, that wasn’t something Harry hadn’t expected: many of the prostitutes and escorts Harry had conversations with during some of his missions had confessed him they survived solely because they didn’t trust their clients. However… something in his guts moved unpleasantly; all his life, Harry had been the saviour of the weak, the knight wearing the shining armour who was there to help, and seeing that an omega in such conditions – dirty, probably hungry, unhappy and tired – still didn’t trust him made him question if he had done his job right, and was a true jab at his ego.

“I won’t have sex with you,” Harry announced. As he heard Eggsy breathe in, he raised a hand; a sign for the omega to let him finish. Although he was hoping to not sound like a fool, he knew his voice was shaking. He cleared his throat. “I won’t have _intercourse_ with you because I know it is not out of your own volition.”

“You don’t want to do nothing?”

“No, Eggsy. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you please, and I might require your assistance when things will get too… _difficult_ , for me to bear, but otherwise, I won’t ask for anything.”

Eggsy was studying him. He still wasn’t – rightfully – sure about his intentions, and Harry wanted nothing more than prove him no one was going to hurt him, there.

“You will receive your pay, of course,” he added. “The amount you and my friend discussed, not a penny less. I’m also willing to give you something more for the… _babysitting_ services.”

The omega kept quiet, probably pondering if the man before him was a serial killer in disguise or was being genuinely nice to him.

“If you desire so, you can walk out of this house this very moment, and you would _still_ be paid, bonus included. I won’t force you to stay here, if it’s against your will.”

“As if that’s a valid option,” Eggsy mumbled under his breath.

* * *

 

After their conversation, Harry offered Eggsy some breakfast, and he let the boy sit at the small kitchen table as he prepared the plate. For the whole length of the meal, the omega kept shoving food in his mouth, cutting everything in bites far too big for him to chew and that made his cheeks bulge like those of a hamster. Whenever he couldn’t swallow anymore without chocking, he took huge sips from the cup of tea in front of him, which Harry kept filling.

Eggsy’s appetite was enticing enough, yet Harry didn’t manage to eat more than a few pieces of potato: the dirty smell that surrounded the omega had spread through the kitchen, and anytime Harry breathed in, it hit his brain and made him nauseous. However, he didn’t say anything, as he was sure Eggsy perfectly knew about his condition and had done it on purpose. Perhaps later he would’ve offered a shower.

By the time their late breakfast was over, Eggsy had drunk four full cups of tea with milk and honey, and Harry couldn’t do anything more for him than give him the directions for the guest bedroom.

Once the boy disappeared upstairs, Harry listened to the sound of the shower as he washed the plates and cups they had used. Eggsy hadn’t said a single word, but Harry knew the omega had studied him for the whole length of their meal, as he had felt his eyes on him.

In any normal occasion, Harry would’ve been incredibly annoyed: as a spy, one of the worst feelings he could go through was that there were eyes on him, intently studying his form and possible intentions. Whenever he felt someone’s eyes on him, Harry adjusted the signet ring on his pinkie and licked his teeth. With Eggsy, however, the whole situation was different: the boy went through terrible, terrible things everyday, and if studying and eyeing him was going to make him feel any safer, then Harry would’ve let him do it as long as he pleased without paying any mind.

He dried the last plate and put it back in the cupboard, stacking it carefully onto the others, and hung the humid towel to one of the counters. Looking around, hoping to have something else to wash or tidy, something that would’ve kept him from walking upstairs, but he found nothing; the kitchen was tidy and clean, and all the cups, plates and pans were already in their cupboards.

So, Harry swallowed and began his walk to the stairs, telling himself he was going to shut himself in his bedroom until lunch.

He was padding upstairs when the scent hit him in the chest, almost knocking him off of his feet. His fingers tightened around the handrail of the stairs as his knees let him go and he fell on them. There was pain in his legs, that Harry recognized, but the smell that was lingering in the air…

 _Fuck_.

His fangs dropped, their sharp tips cutting his lower gum and the inside of his lips, making the taste of blood spread in his mouth, thick on his tongue. He swallowed, inhaling deeply in an attempt at calming the sudden rush of hormones.

It was the smell of the omega. Of the _delicious_ , young, and pretty omega in his shower. His mouth was watering, spit dripping down his lips and onto the carpet as he let out a low, ferocious growl.

Just a taste… Harry wanted just a taste, nothing else. He wanted to drop on his knees behind the omega, spread his arse cheeks with his hands, and drink, and lick, and kiss, and be as obscene as the boy would’ve had him. And he would’ve made the boy come one, two, three times, until he cried he couldn’t stand it anymore.

And it was then that Harry recognized what he was doing and let out a low, keening noise. His cock was hard in his trousers, and all his muscles were quivering.

In the guest bathroom there was Eggsy, a boy who had been forced into prostitution so that he could have a roof over his head and food in his belly, and to whom Harry had made an _important_ promise he was intentioned to keep. He knew how being touched by a perfect, unlikeable stranger felt – all those honeypot missions hadn’t been for nothing, after all – and god knew how many times the boy had to endure such hardship.

But he smelled _heavenly_ , and Harry just wanted a taste of him.

His fingers tightened around the handrail, and his free hand went over his heart, gripping onto the shirt. It was beating wildly against his ribcage, and his cock ached almost at the same rhythm.

Yet, he didn’t rise from his kneeling position, and just stayed there, listening to the shower being turned off and to Eggsy drying his hair. Now that he was getting dry, the boy smelled even more enticing, and Harry considered unbuttoning his trousers to masturbate there and then.

“Oh, god!” the scream made Harry swallow the mouthful of saliva that was pooling under his tongue and raise his gaze to the top of the stairs just to see… Eggsy was _breathtakingly_ beautiful, the reflection of the picture _Hidden Gems_ had sent him, and Harry couldn’t tear his eyes off of him. The line of the boy’s jaw looked as if it was sharp enough to cut glass, and his blonde hair were still damp and sticking in all directions, a clear indication that the dear omega wasn’t used to brushing them down. His pale – _oh, so pale_ – skin was quickly got a darker shade of pink as he rushed down the stairs.

“Oh, god,” Eggsy repeated as he put his hands under his armpits in an attempt at hauling him up. Unfortunately, Harry was far heavier than he looked, and he took advantage of the boy’s closeness to press his mouth and nose against the soft, _perfumed_ fabric of his hoodie. “Y’ dyin’? Y’ dyin’ ‘arry?” the fear had made his accent stronger, the words as if they were stumbling in his mouth. “Are y’ ‘avin’ a heart attack?”

With that, Harry couldn’t stop his laugh: “I may be _older_ , Eggsy, but I’m certainly not _that_ old.”

“Screw y’, y’ old _bag_! Thought you’re dying!”

Eggsy let him go, and Harry was on his knees again, still laughing. The omega fell on the step beside him, face getting redder and redder as his scent changed from full-panic to the lighter tone that Harry recognized as embarrassment.

He chuckled lightly, as he moved to mirror Eggsy’s position. He wanted to touch the boy, reassure him through his presence and caresses, and the alpha instincts he was born with made the task to keep his hands to himself no easier.

“I didn’t know my appearance was so unsettling I gave the impression to be the kind of person ready to die of a heart attack.”

“Neither me Da did, but ‘e was thirty-five when ‘e dropped dead.”

The spiky scent subsided, getting sweet as honey as it left space to pure and unhidden sadness.

Harry wanted nothing more than his rut to subdue, leave him alone so that he could properly take care of the grieving boy sitting by him without being feared. The smell of Eggsy’s distress was making his insides stir, ache in a way that was far more unpleasant than the pain he had experienced from breaking his bones.

But before he could open his mouth to express his condolences, another wave of heat invested his body, running from his fingertips to his stomach and cock, making him moan, tone high pitched and extremely embarrassing.

His face flushed red and he swallowed, scrambling on the steps to hauling himself up. He had to get _away_ from Eggsy, because the fantasies he had been thinking about for the entire day could become a very, very inappropriate truth, if he didn’t put some space between himself and the wonderfully smelling omega.

“You wanna go to bed?” Eggsy asked, still sitting on the step, and he turned his face upwards to look at him.

On the ceiling above their heads there was a small skylight whose purpose was to lighten the small space of the stairs during daytime. Harry had always _hated_ that window, as it was impossible to clean thoroughly and would open by itself – and it usually did so when it was raining heavily, if not _hailing_.

And yet, now that Eggsy’s beautiful face was splashed with the cold light of early afternoon, he was regretting all the hate he had, for so many years, reserved to that skylight. The blonde hair of the boy were shining, a golden aura that shined around his head and features and was reflected in his green eyes.

Right in that moment, if someone told Harry god existed and that he had sent an angel as its proof, he would’ve believed them without a second thought.

With his mouth dry, Harry couldn’t but nod.

Eggsy stood up and wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, supporting his weight with remarkable ease – especially considering the boy was but an omega – and holding him close enough Harry’s nostrils were filled with the scent coming from the omega’s hair and body. The boy’s scent gland was right under his nose; if he just dipped his head, his teeth would’ve met it with the silver kiss of a bite.

And he probably did, dip his head and brush his lips against the boy’s neck, because Eggsy’s palm was suddenly against his forehead, pushing him up and away from his skin. “None of dat, ‘arry. Now ya be a good boy and go to bed.”

He _didn’t want to_ go to bed; he wanted to stay there with the boy, and it didn’t matter if there wasn’t a true ‘there’ but the stairs they had been sitting on. Harry wanted to stay there with the boy and kiss him, and fuck him, and mark his skin with love bites, and have his skin marked with scratches and light bites, and inhale Eggsy’s delicious smell with his nose pressed against his throat.

Eggsy, however, didn’t seem to mind him nor his noises any attention, and kept helping him up the stairs and into the bedroom. Once they were there, the omega helped him on the bed, adjusting the pillow under his head too.

All of his instincts were telling him to grab the boy by the collar of the hoodie and drag him onto the mattress, wrap his arms around him and keep him there, bodies pressed together.

But he didn’t. Harry kept his fists closed and his mouth tightened in a thin line, teeth gritted. It was the rut, that had transformed him into that thirsty beast who barely knew better than assaulting a poor omega who was there just to help him out.

He swallowed, and watched Eggsy pace towards the door. His whole body was already screaming for the distance between them; all his muscles, nerves and organs wanted to be nowhere but with the angelic boy. His fingers clenched on the sheets, holding them tight.

Eggsy turned, his blonde hair catching a ray of sunlight coming from the window, and it shined with the most pristine shades of gold. The boy took another step in his direction, and now the light was right on his face, illuminating his right eye and cheek.

 _An angel_. No holy vision could be compared to the beauty Harry was witnessing in that moment.

“So… I’m gonna go. Not leavin’ the house, just goin’ downstairs. Call if ya need…” he gestured in the general direction of the bed, waving his hands in a movement that could suggest many, _many_ things, “ _babysittin’_.”

Harry nodded, fever rising to his head.

The sound of the door closing behind Eggsy’s shoulders echoed in his ears.

Kicking his slippers off of his feet, Harry rolled onto his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow, stroking his cheeks and nose against the fabric in a desperate seek for relief. It was _too clean_ , it smelt of nothing but soap and softener, and the _possessive_ alpha side of him was taking over his mind, making him want to mark _everything_.

Struggling against the blankets, Harry got onto his knees and ripped his shirt open, making the buttons fly across the room. He had no time – nor could focus enough – to unbutton them. With the shirt still hanging from his shoulders, Harry opened his trousers and kicked them off as he had done with the slippers.

Drops of sweat were dripping down the line of his neck and between his shoulder blades, and heat was growing in his chest. He rolled on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but the more he struggled, the more his briefs stuck to the damp skin of his waist and thighs.

Eggsy’s scent had filled his nose, lungs, and the air of the bedroom. It gravitated just above the ceiling, and whenever Harry breathed in, he smelt nothing but Eggsy.

 _Eggsy, Eggsy, Eggsy_. Sweet, delicious Eggsy.

His skin would’ve given in _so easily_ under his fangs, Harry thought as he rolled on his belly, rising on his knees as he grabbed a pillow and placed it under his torso. _Oh,_ the taste of the boy’s blood in his mouth, the mark of possession on his neck… he whined, hips bucking in the pillow and fangs biting into it.

He pushed his hand into his briefs to stroke his erection, fingers wrapping tight around the already swelling knot.

It wasn’t enough, _it wasn’t enough_.

Flashes of Eggsy under him, moaning, eyes rolled backwards in pleasure, filled his mind. That… that _would’ve_ done it.

Moaning, Harry kept fucking his hand and pillow, pre-come sticking to the inside of the briefs and to his own fingers. Eggsy moaning with pleasure, Eggsy showing him his teeth before biting his scent gland, Eggsy scratching him because it was _just so good_ and he didn’t know what else he could hold onto…

His hand tightened around his knot, squeezing as if he could trick himself into thinking an omega was _really_ there and not just in his rut heated brain.

The orgasm washed over him unexpectedly, knocking the breath out of his body; his toes curled and tingles ran in through his legs, from toes to groin, as he came copiously in his own underwear. His hips, however, didn’t stop grinding against the pillow. His fangs were still biting into it.

Inhaling slowly, Harry took the hand out of his briefs and opened his mouth, careful not to ruin the pillowcase further with his elongated teeth. In its powder blue fabric, there were the two round holes of his fangs, the ‘pressed’ sign where his other teeth had been, and the wet-with-saliva trace of his mouth.

His heart was still beating wildly in his chest, making the blood _pound_ in his veins.

He rolled onto his back, letting his muscles relax, and darkness swallowed him before he could notice.

* * *

 

The room was pitch black, when Harry opened his eyes.

As he blinked in confusion, rising on his elbows and rubbing his feet together because they felt a little too cold to be comfortable, he stared out of the window. Night had fallen, and the sky was nothing but a dark canvas.

Probably too late for supper, Harry realized. _But_ his stomach was grumbling in hunger, and refusing to serve dinner to a guest because the hour wasn’t right would’ve been ungentlemanly, if not plain rude.

Slowly, Harry put his feet back on the floor and straightened himself. The sensation of the sticky briefs pressed against his skin could’ve been described only as _downright disgusting_ , and his hand, if he was not mistaken, didn’t feel particularly clean either.

Harry went to the bathroom carrying a change of clothes and on the tip of his toes – he could only imagine the horror Eggsy would’ve underwent, if he happened to see him almost naked – and used a wet washcloth to rinse himself off, as he was far too hungry to take a proper shower.

With the clean clothes on and droplets of fresh water running down his face, he was feeling like a human again. Of course, he was well aware that his face was in absolutely _dreadful_ conditions but, since he also knew he couldn’t do anything about it, he left it as it was and walked downstairs.

As he stepped down the last steps of the stairs, Eggsy’s smell, sweet and _strong_ , hit him right in the chest. He almost expected another reaction as the one he had had before, but nothing happened; probably the result of having gone through such strong climax not too many hours before.

Following his nose, Harry found the boy in the dark living room, body stretched on the couch and a foot propped on the coffee table. The telly was on, the screen showing images of brightly coloured birds stretching their wings in the first hours of the day, and blue shadows were being projected on the boy’s face, colouring it with a eerie shades of light blue. His plump lower lip looked purple, in that unfortunate light. It seemed that Eggsy could barely keep his eyes open, as his eyelids were _just_ disclosed, but he was still managing to keep a half filled glass between his fingers somehow.

Harry observed the omega, _studied_ him in that light that gave him the appearance of an alien who had found his way to his living room just because of luck.

The grasp of the omega’s fingers on the glass loosened, and Harry was quick to catch it before it could fall on the floor or its liquid – which looked like orange juice – could spill.

His sudden movement towards Eggsy shook the boy from his sleep, and made him jump and scramble to the other side of the sofa, eyes as wide as an owl’s.

“Oh… ‘t’s you…” the boy murmured as he relaxed, massaging his eyes and pushing his hair from his forehead. Then, his gaze lowered to the glass Harry was holding, and his cheek tinged red. “Kinda rummaged in your kitchen. Got hungry, but didn’t wanna to wake ya up, so... it’s all clean! Promise!”

Harry nodded. “Unless you accidentally set my kitchen on fire, then it’s no bother. Say… would you like to eat something proper?” he proposed, swaying the glass back and forth as he spoke.

Eggsy’s eyes fell on the glass again, and his face got even redder. Suspicion arose, and Harry brought it to his nose, inhaling.

The boy had _spiked_ it!

“Sorry, _bruv_ ,” Eggsy mumbled in shame. “Saw your liquor cabinet and wanted to give it a try.”

“ _What even is this?_ ”

The smell was awfully cheap, and Harry could bet his signet ring, his favourite oxfords, the copy of _A Single Man_ Isherwood himself had autographed for him, and Mr Pickles that he didn’t have any _cheap_ liquor in his cabinet, so that had to be all of the boy’s doing.

Eggsy turned the telly off but didn’t stand. In fact, he pushed himself even further form Harry, going as far as he could without falling off of the couch.

He was protecting himself, Harry realized. Eggsy was afraid of his reaction, so he was trying to put as much distance as possible between them. Never in his life Harry had felt more of a fool.

“Eggsy,” he said slowly, as he did when he had to discuss with victims about the tragedies they had just went through. “I’m not angry at you, you did _nothing_ wrong. I’m only curious.”

The boy took his time to answer, gaze travelling on everything in the room but Harry and the drink. “Orange juice ‘n’ whiskey.”

Harry gagged in disgust.

 _Orange juice and scotch_.

“Was it _Paddy_?”

Eggsy shrugged in his shoulders. “Think so. ‘T was yellow.”

Oh, dear. That was something Harry _had to_ correct as soon as possible. Not even in his drunken youth, in the period after finishing his studies and before being accepted as a _Kingsman_ recruit, when he would drink anything as long as it was alcoholic, he had pushed himself to the point of mixing something with the simple, ever so trusting and familiar, _Paddy_.

“After dinner I’m going to show you how to prepare a proper drink.”

At the announcement, Eggsy’s face lightened up, and he jumped off of the couch like an eager puppy.

To cook dinner, Harry asked for Eggsy’s help; a payment for the mixing lesson that would’ve followed their meal.

Even in the kitchen, however, Harry tried to teach the young omega something. He didn’t know if they were allowed to cook, in the facility where they lived, but he chose a recipe that was fairly easy to remember and to follow, and whose ingredients were inexpensive: chicken breasts and stewed vegetables.

As Harry cut the vegetables – carrots, courgettes and potatoes – Eggsy had to check on the chicken cooking in an oil coated pan, making sure that it didn’t overcook but stayed of a nice golden colouration. The boy proved to be a good little helper, careful to follow Harry’s instructions from his position on the counter.

They ate at the kitchen table again, the space beneath it so small their feet kept touching, no matter how they tried to position them. For their meal Harry opened a bottle of red wine and took great enjoyment from the – slightly disgusted – faces the boy made anytime he took a sip. He would’ve adjusted to its taste in no time, Harry was sure of it.

The rest of the evening unfolded on itself pleasurably, in a weird yet warm domesticity Harry had never felt with anyone. They cleared the table and washed the plates and cutlery together, and when their elbows touched, hot tingles spread in his arm.

Once the plates were on the rack to dry, Eggsy took hold of one of Harry’s sleeves and _dragged_ him to the liquor cabinet.

There, Harry showed all of his ability in preparing the _perfect_ Martini – gin, not vodka; stirred, not shaked –, calling himself stupid once again, because he was far too old to flirt in such ways with a boy _that_ young. As soon as he served Eggsy a glass, the omega downed it in a single go, getting himself immediately tipsy, before asking Harry if they could carry the gin bottle – a _Tanqueray_ he had bought one night when he was feeling particularly alone but had never opened – with them in the living room.

Harry, being himself not perfectly sober and with the pleasing scent of the omega stuck right under his nose and in his throat, consented.

Sprawled on the couch once more, telly turned on and showing a pretty documentary about birds of some African isle whose name Harry didn’t quite catch, they shared the bottle of _Tanqueray_ until Eggsy began coughing.

Being the rugged man he was, Harry took the bottle from Eggsy’s hands, capped it, and put it on the floor far from the boy’s reach.

“You’ve had enough,” he sentenced, head spinning lightly.

The boy pressed against his shoulder made a disgruntled sound but didn’t protest, and Harry slid his hand around his waist to get him closer. His heat, his scent… Harry didn’t mind those, no matter if his cock was hard in his trousers and his fangs were leaving small cuts in his mouth.

“Did I tell ya you’re the most handsome--”

“It’s _handsomest_ , dear.”

“Whatever, ya got it.” Eggsy rubbed his nose with his whole palm before continuing: “Ya’re the _handsomest_ client I’ve ever ‘ad?”

The irony in Eggsy’s voice sounded _beautiful_ , a show of the true nature of the omega.

Harry chuckled, but kept silent.

Eggsy moved, first by taking his head off of Harry’s shoulder, then by climbing directly on his lap.

It was the alcohol and the rut, Harry said to himself as he welcomed the weight of the boy that was straddling his thighs and leaning into his chest.

“Really. Ya’re very ‘andsome. A _truly dazzling_ gentleman.”

Again, Harry kept his mouth sealed, but took hold of Eggsy’s hips and held him close, signing him to put his head back on his shoulder so that he could smell his hair. The tip of the omega’s nose, cold while the rest of his body was warm and welcoming, brushed against his neck.

“You’re ‘andsome, polite, you gave me martinis ‘n’ wine…”

“It’s nothing, dear boy,” Harry whispered against the boy’s temple, barely resisting the instinct that was telling him to kiss him.

Eggsy writhed briefly, adjusting the position of one of his legs and tightening his arms around the small of Harry’s back, before going back to still. “No, ‘s true…”

Through the mists of wine, martini and gin, Harry finally understood why Eggsy was so impressed with his conduct. “I’m very sorry for all what you went through, Eggsy. Truly sorry. If there’s any way I can make you feel better, you just have to ask.”

“Tomorrow… not now…” Eggsy’s voice was breathy, as if he was falling asleep. The voice of the man talking on the telly was nothing but white noise. “Harry?”

“Yes?”

“Do you wanna know why I smelled bad? I mean… when I got ‘ere?”

Harry caressed down the boy’s back, fingers travelling down his spine, feeling the knobs under the thick dorsal muscles. “Only if you want to tell me, darling.”

“Sometimes me client get rowdy, ‘Arry… not violent, but they used to jump on me as soon as I got in, and I didn’t like it, but at the _Flowers_ no one wanted to do anythin’. Said it was me fault.” Harry tightened his hold around the boy, keeping him close. “So I don’t wash before goin’ to me clients ‘cause if I smell bad, then they don’t wanna get on me immediately.”

A lump formed in his throat, and tears filled his eyes. He swallowed, but it was no use. The boy was living a miserable life, worse than Harry had imagined. He kissed the boy’s temple, pressing his nose into his hair and breathing in deeply, eyes closing and letting a tear roll down.

The harmful of boy on his lap was letting small noises grown in his throat, and it took Harry a while to recognize Eggsy was _purring_ , and it was in front of that sincere demonstration of affect that he realized he had to do something to help the boy get out of that situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: renaissancewasbetter.tumblr.com


	3. Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I turned 19, had Campari for lunch and sushi for dinner, turned in the last work I had to give to one of my teachers, managed to get the highest score in English, and finally, _finally_ managed to finish this colossus of a chapter.  
>  Up to this point, this is the longest I've ever posted on this platform - 11k words spread over 19 pages - and it consists mostly of porn, and I feel like I need to say that I've written it while listening to the Paradise Edition of _Born to Die_.
> 
> (There is a part in which Harry's uncle speaks Italian, and the whole speak is underlined because it'll bring you to the English translation I've written on it and posted on my blog.)

In his lap, Eggsy had fallen asleep, the ghost of his breath even against Harry’s neck and weight comforting on his body. His fingers were still travelling up and down the boy’s spine and his nose was pressed into his hair, when he noticed.

Even if he would’ve never admitted him – not to himself nor to anyone else – he could feel his chest swell with the pride an alpha rarely experienced. At least, _Harry_ had never felt such feeling until that very moment. He was _warm_ from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, Eggsy’s purrs still reverberating in his ribcage.

 _However_ , he couldn’t let the boy sleep in that position, with his legs folded and back slumped down; if they stayed like that all night long, their joints would’ve surely punished them the following day.

Harry turned the tv off, before taking hold of the boy’s thighs and slowly, putting their combined weight on his knees rather than his back or abs, he rose to his feet.

The movement disturbed Eggsy, who shifted and mumbled: “We goin’ to bed?”

The kiss Harry left on the boy’s cheek felt as if it was something he had been doing for years, something he had been doing for so long it now came naturally. His nose lingered in the boy’s hair, dragging its tip against the warm skin of his scalp and lingering in its scent. “Yes, dear boy.”

Eggsy was purring again, and he kept doing so while Harry climbed up the stairs and walked into the guest bedroom. With the boy in his arms he wasn’t able to see properly the room, but he noticed Eggsy’s gym bag under the window and the unmade bed. The air carried the distinct scent of the boy and old trainers.

As he lowered the boy on the bed – a hand stretched to turn on the lamp on the bedside table –, he began squirming, trying to hold onto his shirt.

Laid on the mattress, still wiggling, Eggsy was staring at him through his eyelashes, an adorable pout on his mouth. Harry wanted to smooth it down with his thumb. “Don’t you wanna spend the night wiv me?”

  “Eggsy,” he placed his hand on the boy’s cheek, palm scooping his jaw, and watched in adoration as he leaned into his touch. “You’re a _marvellous_ boy, and you _perfectly_ know I’d like spending the night with you very much, but you also know I can’t.”

  “Yes you can, I like you! If we were clubbing I would’ve fucked ya already.”

Harry chuckled, redness rising to his cheeks. “That’s very flattering, darling boy.” With his thumb, he stroked his cheekbone. “But now I’m in a position of power over you, and it wouldn’t be fair.”

  “But I want it…”

The omega’s smell was going to his head once again, making it spin. Another wave of hormones was coming, and it felt stronger than the one that had hit him right in the stomach that afternoon. It was probably result of having a boy who smelled of sleep and – desperate – arousal so close; it was no wonder mated couples had their ruts and heats synced, after a while.

  “And so do I, darling, but how can I be sure you’d like to have intercourse with me when we both are high on hormones and you may be doing it because you feel like you _have to_?”

Eggsy let out a high pitched noise, eyes shining with frustrated tears. “Ya’re the first client I want to shag, and ya don’t wanna to… ‘s ridiculous.”

Harry wanted – oh, so desperately – to lean down and kiss all the sadness and confusion from his features away. Instead, he helped the boys under the blankets and tucked him in.

Before leaving for his room – or bathroom, as a half erection was already tenting his trousers – he gave in and bent down to kiss the boy’s forehead. Yet, his lips didn’t touch the smooth skin of the forehead, nor the blonde fringe that covered the hairline, as Eggsy had wriggled under the blankets hoping to get closer – or get something more. Instead, Harry kissed the angle of his eyebrow, and he couldn’t but linger, hands cupping the boy’s cheeks.

With his eyes closed, all what Harry could feel was Eggsy’s presence; the boy’s syrupy and ripe scent, the warmness of his skin, the light and even rhythm of his breath against his neck and clavicles, his soft purring sound.

 It would’ve been so easy, to kiss him _properly_ , fully, just like an omega beautiful, sweet and caring as him deserved.

Eggsy’s breath hitched, and his fingers brushed Harry’s wrist, waking him from his fantasy. He pressed in for another moment – _one last moment_ before parting ways for the night – and moved away, Eggsy’s face still in his hands.

  “Harry, just promise me sumething.”

  “Anything you want, dear.”

In the warm light of the lamp, Eggsy’s eyes were _very_ green and round and big, and his lips were red and shiny with saliva, and Harry was dying to sink his teeth in that plump, always pouting, lower lip. “When your rut is done, ‘n’ y’re not me client anymore, promise me you’ll take me to bed and _fuck_ me in the bed all night long.”

Harry let out a hoarse laugh that scratched his throat; of course Eggsy was going to ask something of that kind! “Of course,” he said before kissing the boy’s forehead, perfectly in its centre this time. “Anything you want.”

Before leaving the bedroom, Harry tucked him in better and shut the lamp off, and as he was closing the door, Eggsy blew him a kiss and waved with a satisfied smile on his pretty face.

 

His erection, as soon as he shut the guest bedroom door closed, became a secondary problem; with a solid wall between him and the object of his attraction – and all his adorable smiles, shining eyes, soft hair – he felt like he could think clearly again, and the trained spy in him seemed to be waking up.

The clock at the top of the stairs, a _terrible_ piece of furniture he had inherited from a rich, artist uncle who had spent his last years on the sunny hills of Lombardy with a baronet he had met in Rome and hadn’t had the heart to get rid of yet, played the Westminster Melody, announcing it was midnight. As the tolls echoed in the corridors and down the stairs, Harry found himself wishing he had stopped it, as it might’ve scared Eggsy half to death.

But before, he had something far more important to do.

He rushed downstairs and, once he was in his office, its bright orange walls all around him like a hug, he took hold of the phone and dialled Merlin’s number.

They had known each other for long enough to be perfectly aware of the other’s habits, and Harry perfectly knew he could call because Hamish, who liked to claim _he_ had a social life outside of work and beside his family, spent the Friday nights when his husband was away – if he recalled correctly, Eugene was in Dublin to visit their daughters, Clara and Katherine, and wouldn’t have returned until the next Monday – doing nothing but sitting at the coffee table in his living room, eating – probably cold, because he _dreaded_ microwaves – fish and chips, watching _Doctor Who_ re-runs, and organizing the missions for the following week.

  “Galahad?” Merlin’s voice asked as soon as he picked up. In the background, Harry could hear _Doctor Who_ ’s twenty-second opening theme playing.

Harry huffed, leaning against the desk. “Spare the bullshite, Hamish.”

The music stopped.  “Oh, if that isn’t the most precious daisy of me garden! How is going with the omega? Is he good--”

  “No, he’s not!” Harry exploded, interrupting him mid-sentence and losing the demure he managed to keep most days. “The boy got here yesterday morning with a smell worse than a terrorized skunk’s! He told me he feared I would’ve attacked him!”

He began pacing back and forth, considering the idea of serving himself a glass of scotch. After all, he had already had wine and _Tanqueray_ , some scotch wouldn’t have particularly changed his state of mind.

  “And I’m sure he didn’t do that just for you…”

  “Exactly!” He stalked out of the study and strolled to the liquor cabinet. With his left hand, he served himself more than the usual three fingers of _Chivas Regal_ and managed to swipe them down and refill the glass in the matter of a blink of an eye. “How could you think this was a good idea? One of _Kingsman_ ’s most intelligent agents _my ass_!”

Merlin sighed and, without doubt, took his glasses off. “I’m sorry, Harry, but it was all what I could do for you. Arthur wants to assign you three missions for the next month, and none of them is based in England, and I possibly couldn’t let you take days off for _this_.”

  “Since when do you follow Arthur’s orders like a trained dog?”

The question left his mouth with far more harshness than he intended, and regret was already heavy on his tongue. He took a sip of scotch and let it warm in his mouth before swallowing it down. In his throat, the body temperature _Chivas_ left a burning sensation and a rather weird taste.

The silence between them stretched further, farther; heavy and suffocating as a woollen blanket in the middle of summer.

  “I did what I thought would’ve been better for you, Harry, nothing else,” Merlin finally said, voice shaking. “The boy is a good lad, and I’m as sorry as you are that he has to sell himself in order to live, but renting him was the only thing that came to my mind to help you.” Another sigh, a click, and _Doctor’s Who_ theme began playing again. “See the bright side, Galahad: you’re not humping the mattress.”

And the phone sounded static.

Harry stared at it, considering recalling Merlin to finish their conversation with a few more angry shouts – or to apologize to him for calling him Arthur’s dog when all what he had done had been an attempt at helping him out – or thinking through what he had said.

The second stream of thoughts had its way in his alcohol bribed mind.

It was true. On his second day of rut, Harry had always been a panting mess who bit into pillows in the desperate simulation of marking an omega. Even when he had… _guests_ , he had to bite into something before getting his fangs into their shoulders and mark them as his for the rest of their – miserable – lives.

But now… now he was going into his second day, and beside the accident of that afternoon, nothing else had truly happened. For hell’s sake, he had _turned down_ an omega that smelled of arousal and was begging to have intercourse with him!

The perfume of white jasmines hit him in the perfect centre of his brain, making him wobble and fall against the wall. He managed to keep himself upright by placing a hand on the cabinet beside him; with his free hand, he went over his forehead, pushing his hair out of the way before massaging his temple.

The perfume wasn’t there with him: it was a _perfectly_ preserved memory coming from his teenage years, but so vivid and bright that, if he inhaled, he could smell nothing else but those flowers, the dry dust of the driveway, the eventual whiff of salty air coming from the far ocean. Images were coming back too, as bright as the jasmine. The grey stonewall built all around his uncle’s property, the jasmine and cocktail climbing rose, the orange light of sundown shining on the water of the pool. His uncle and him were sitting on a stone bench, sharing a cigarette and a beer while watching the dramatic decline of the sun behind the hills dotted with cypresses. Harry, he was sure of it, had just turned sixteen, while his uncle’s omega, the baronet, would’ve turned twenty in a few days. Although they were quite close in age, he couldn’t stand his uncle’s omega; the baronet was a spoiled, insufferable brat his uncle kept pampering up, crooning after him all day long, bringing him iced tea and making him pose naked for his next painting. He couldn’t stand Achille and his diamonds studded collar, his rhythmic voice and nice words, his dark curls and black eyes. The only way to avoid seeing such situations was for Harry to close himself in his room, and _stay_ there.

  “Harry,” his uncle had said before taking a drag and handing him the smoke. The man insisted on speaking Italian, which he defined as language nobler than English and any other tongue. Now that he was older, Harry couldn’t but agree. “[Harry _,_ _comprendo per quale motivo ti nasconda nella tua camera tutto il giorno: vedere una coppia così unita, soprattutto con genitori freddi e distaccati come i tuoi, dev’essere piuttosto strano e difficile. E so anche che Achille non è un ragazzo facile. Ma… caro, spero per te che, un giorno, incontrerai qualcuno che faccia nascere in te un istinto di proteggere talmente forte da non poterne venire meno. Non fare come mio fratello, non sposarti in fretta e furia per poi vivere una vita insoddisfacente:_ aspetta](https://renaissancewasbetter.tumblr.com/post/174572929642/hidden-gems-a-hartwin-fanfic-hidden-gems-is-an) _[, riconoscerai quell’omega non appena ne sentirai il profumo, e se non sarai abbastanza sveglio da riconoscerla immediatamente, ogni ritmo del tuo corpo andrà in subbuglio, e ti ritroverai fedele a quell’unica persona e a nessun altro…](https://renaissancewasbetter.tumblr.com/post/174572929642/hidden-gems-a-hartwin-fanfic-hidden-gems-is-an)”_

The memory faded, bringing with it his uncle’s voice and the smell of jasmines, but the words remained with him. He had never imagined finding himself agreeing with that eccentric man on more topics than that of the language. In the following years, Harry had discovered that a few other alphas had found themselves in the same conditions: once they smelt the one who became their lifelong partner, they were utterly faithful and worshipping, and all of their body rhythms changed to accommodate those of the omega.

It had happened to Percival and Lancelot, too, and they referred to it as a scent-imprint, as it didn’t happen at the sight of the person, but at the sole scent of them.

However, he thought as he moved away from the liquor cabinet to bring the empty glass to the kitchen, he couldn’t force a relationship on Eggsy because he had imprinted on him; the boy was _young_ – Harry suspected to be more than twenty-five years his senior – and he didn’t deserve to carry the burden of having such an old alpha for the rest of his life.

After washing the glass and leaving it to dry on the rack, he got upstairs to look for his laptop.

 _Kingsman_ missions were so successful because they were prepared to the last detail; deep researches were done on the people who would’ve been there, on the place where they would’ve operated, on the food and drinks they would’ve been able to find in the surrounding area. Organizing a quick mission took Merlin at least half week, and another few days went past as the chosen agent learnt his part. This time, however, there wouldn’t have been a team, behind the curtains: Harry wanted to move alone, try the first steps to help the boy out. As he had learnt from Hamish, the first steps always entailed an in-depth research; in his case, the first step was to see if the site of the facility had something to offer. At that point, any kind of information would’ve been good information.

Upstairs, Harry covered his nose and mouth with the handkerchief he always kept on his person, a weak attempt at blocking the delicious scent of the sleeping boy from reaching his nostrils. Of course, the rectangular piece of fabric wasn’t able to bloc properly Eggsy’s smell, so he held his breath all the way to his bedroom.

In there, the air _reeked_ unpleasantly of aroused alpha, sweat, come, and sexual frustration. The bed was still unmade, clothes lying on the floor; under the thin sole of his slipper, he felt one of the buttons he had accidentally ripped from his shirt.

The laptop was, as he had expected, on the floor. It had fallen upside down by the bedside table he never used, as it was on the side of the bed he never slept on, and had been hidden under his crumpled pair of brown trousers.

He picked the computer up, leaving the piece of clothing on the floor – he would’ve tidied everything once he was done with doing his researches. Before leaving, however, he opened the window, hoping a little fresh air would’ve swiped the smell of alpha away.

The deep orange walls of his study, on which there were lined up _The Sun_ headlines about celebrity related events that had happened in the same days he had saved the world, welcomed him in a warm hug as soon as he turned the light on. Seated at his desk, sinking in the leather chair, Harry crossed his legs and turned his laptop on.

 _Hidden Gems_ site had been designed to exude as much sexuality as an internet page could; against the black background, the name of the agency was written in white concocted letters, and flowers whose shapes reminded that of sexual organs – such as orchids – decorated the sides of the page. In the middle of it, written in bright red words, a warning that notified that the content of _Hidden Gems_ was only for people who were older than eighteen.

Harry had to breathe in, expand his lungs and think the reasoning that had brought him there once again, think of Eggsy’s smile and his soft purring against his neck, before finding the courage to click the button that confirmed that he was, indeed, of age.

When the actual site loaded, what Harry saw sickened him to the bone.

 _Dozens_ of pictures of male omegas appeared in front of his eyes; all of them smiling at the camera, showing their beautiful features and fitting clothes, hair washed and shining. Too many boys to be counted on the fingers of a hand, and under all their faces there wasn’t a single name. No, under their photos there were names of _categories_ , as if those were previews of porn movies, rather than actual people. New arrivals, most requested, highest ratings, tattooed, Caucasian, flexible, redheads… the list could go on for days.

With his feet, Harry dragged the wastebasket he always kept under his desk closer, pushing it to the side a little so that, as his need to throw up was rising rather quickly in his throat, he could just bend and not risk dirtying the carpet.

He scrolled up and down a few times, clicking here and there in a search for Eggsy’s profile. A _disgusted_ warmness was spreading in his stomach and arms.

He found the boy in the ‘most reviewed’ section, the face at the top of a long, _too long,_ list. The coloured little stars beside his name – _Gary Unwin_ , a name that sounded too serious and grown up to be that of the purring boy that slept in his guest bedroom – were his rating; two and a half stars, a pretty low rating, considering that all the other ones had at least four.

After giving himself some more time – to breathe in, simmer in the familiar scent of the old leather armchair he was sitting in and of the ageing paper glued to the walls – he clicked on the boy’s name and got to his profile.

Beside the square icon – Eggsy posing with his head turned to the side and a little upwards, the perfect angle to show the razor like sharpness of his jaw, green eyes illuminated by a rectangular strip of golden sunlight. His shoulders were naked, as well as his arms, and the only article of clothing he was wearing appeared to be a red velvet ribbon loosely tightened around his neck. Harry swallowed around the thick lump in his throat, alphas instincts waking up at the sight of what was supposed to be a collar decorating that _unmarked_ skin – there was a list of basic information about the boy, but he ignored them all, as that was _not_ what he was looking for. Under those, a strip of photos of the boy.

Scrolling down, he found the comments. _Dozens_ of them, enough to make Harry’s heart clench, as he knew that the ones who had written their complains weren’t all the clients Eggsy had had.

He skimmed through them quickly, never focusing on a specific one, and soon discovered that they were mostly insults, accusations written by alphas who claimed that the boy had _bitten_ their faces and fingers, the sign of his teeth leaving nasty scars in their flesh.

Warm and pleasant, proudness flourished in his chest, as he read the comment of an alpha Eggsy had bitten with enough vigour to rip the skin off of his jaw and cheek. As he had thought that morning, the boy would’ve been an _excellent_ agent; maybe, if he was ever able to help the boy out of the facility, he would’ve proposed him as candidate.

Just under that, the comment of an alpha who got two fingers snapped and a piece of ear bitten off; another one complained that Eggsy had broken his nose with a kneeing; the alpha who had written the one below that ended with a cracked rib because of the strength the boy had used to shove him away.

None of them was positive in the slightest; none mentioned Eggsy’s green eyes, his caring nature, the politeness of his attitude. The most encouraging one Harry was able to find was one at the bottom of the page, and it complimented the boy’s flexibility, assuring to all the other alphas who were reading that it was unfairly easy to bend his legs until his knees framed his face.

Harry’s face tightened in disgust when his eyes went through a comment above that one; an alpha had found the boy stinking so awfully that he had grabbed him by the hair and had slammed him against the wall of the shower, holding him under a spray of cold water until the boy was gasping for air.

Dinner and gin were threatening to come out of his stomach, but he didn’t disrespect his wastebasket enough to _actually_ throw up in it, so he slammed it shut and slumped in his chair.

All around him, the orange walls were _smothering_ him with their tight embrace, a suffocating hug he couldn’t run from. He jumped on his feet, his sudden movement pushing the armchair against the wall with a distinctive thud, and began gnawing on his manicured nails, regretting for the first time in year the absence of a packet of cigarettes in his house. His hands were itching because of their emptiness, and he had to hold himself back before going for the telephone to call Merlin or Percival and begin planning a mission to shut that place for good.

As the clock tolled, the melody echoing in the dead silence of the house, Harry realized it was _perhaps_ a little too late to disturb either Hamish or Edward.

The boys weren’t in danger, he told himself. Eggsy had gotten there skittish and unwashed, with the eyes of someone able to kill to protect himself, but, for all what Harry had been able to see up to that point, with no scars nor bruises.

He was _desperately_ attaching himself at the common lie many believed to be true: not all prostitute clients were violent and abusive, and therefore it had just been Eggsy, the one to be always out of luck, but the more he tried to force that thought in his mind, the more he was disgusted with himself. How could have he thought those _lies_ could be true, when, on a daily basis, he had to assist to the horrors the world offered?

The soft sound of socked feet stepping in the corridor reached his ears, and he turned towards the door just in time to see the boy knock against the doorframe before leaning against it, eyes heavy with sleep.

  “Ya smell o’ distress ‘n’ ya’re makin’ so much noise it won’t lemme sleep,” Eggsy mumbled, taking a few wobbly steps in his direction before stumbling and ending up against his chest.

Harry smiled fondly, taking hold of the boy, who leaned against him with all his weight. He couldn’t even imagine it was the same omega who used to bite, snap fingers, and was overall aggressive and dangerous.

  “Whass goin’ on?”

  “Nothing, darling.” Carding his fingers in the boy’s hair came as a natural reaction to their closeness, as well as inhaling his warm and drowsy scent. His thumb brushed over Eggsy’s scent gland, and, as their skin touched, his natural perfume spiked, filling the room with sweet lavender. He brushed his lips over the darling’s hairline. “You’re tired, you should go back to upstairs to rest. Is the bed comfortable enough?”

  “Mh-m,” the boy assured him, but didn’t move his head from Harry’s sternum. “Woulda feel a lot better if ya were wit’ me.”

  “ _Eggsy_.”

  “Can ya carry me? Like befo’…?”

Harry didn’t need the boy to ask him twice nor insist; he guided Eggsy’s arms around his neck and, once he was sure the boy was comfortably wrapped around him, he lifted him up by the thighs.

Now that the alcohol had – even if partly – left his system, taking the boy’s corded with muscles body seemed to be easier than it had been the first time. Apparently, that was the best pay off of years of training, following a healthy diet and playing who-can-drink-more with Hamish.

The murmur in his ear caught him off guard, as the boy’s lips were close enough to his lobe to feel the warmth of his breath. “Can I sleep in ya bed?”

  “ _Eggsy_ …” he reproved again.

Out of his mouth came an admonishing tone Harry had never thought to be able to perform, as it resembled perfectly that of the old white-haired nanny who took care of him and his cousin Vincent during their summers at the country house. She would grip on his chubby hand in an iron-like clasp, her long nails scratching lightly his skin, as they watched Vincent swim back and forth in the artificial pond.

Eggsy wiggled out of his embrace, and Harry set him on the floor just in time to see him roll his eyes high and hard enough to give himself whiplashes. “Yeah, _yeah_ , ya got inspirations o’ santity ‘n’ such.”

  “It’s not –”

  “Ya’re doin’ it fo’ me, I know.” He walked to the guest bedroom and turned, a smug green on his exhausted face. “But I’ll let ya know I’m not used to sleepin’ alone.” And closed the door behind his shoulders.

Harry, still confused by that last sentence, decided to make tea.

 

The room was too hot.

Sweat was dripping in his neck, between his shoulder blades, where his thighs touched, on his lower abdomen. Tossing and turning, Harry got tangled in the sheets, and its fabric stuck to his skin, _scratching_ it. Huffing, he pushed and kicked the blankets off, trying to refreshed himself from the intolerable heat that was burning his limbs, and rolled to lay on his stomach.

It was a sting in the inside of his lower lip and the taste of blood in his mouth, what woke him up fully, making him open his eyes wide in the bright morning light.

Blinded, fighting against an unpleasant sensation in his stomach that seemed to be swelling up, as if his organs were trying to push acids, and alcohol, and food up his throat, Harry found the strength to push himself off of the bed and fall, tumbling painfully on his knee and elbow, on the carpet.

He coughed and curled up on the floor, ragged breaths heaving in his chest. The collar of his pyjama was _suffocating_ him; he _had to_ take it off.

As he fought against the buttons of the shirt, he realized that that was what happened when his rut subsided and truly began a day later than usual, pushing him off of the cycle his body had been following for decades.

Other blood filled his mouth, followed by the stinging pain of his fangs digging their way through his flesh. He swallowed some, gagging and coughing. Suddenly, his mind was empty, deprived of any of the life-saving techniques he had learnt during his career.

 _If you swallow more than half of a glass of blood, you_ will _throw up_ , the voice of his mentor made its way through the red coloured fog that wrapped his brain. The memory made him nod, as if the woman who had chosen him to be the next Galahad was still there, in the room with him, and could see him and his pathetic state. The carpet beneath his face scraped his cheek, making it burn.

Letting out a whine, Harry inhaled and spat the mixture of blood and saliva that had collected under his tongue and between his teeth. Gurgling to not suffocate, he turned to the side so that he could keep spitting and, hopefully, breathing.

At some point, he blacked out, and completely lost the moment Eggsy opened the door and helped him back on the mattress, propping him up on the pillow. When he came back from the fog, the boy was cleaning the sides of his lips with a handkerchief.

Irrationally, Harry hoped that the boy hadn’t chosen the one with the embroidered crimson rose and the blue butterfly.

  “ _Breathe_ , Harry.”

A growl made its way through his chest, his alpha nature making him respond aggressively to being ordered around by an omega whilst on the peak of his rut. However, as soon as Eggsy glared at him, one eyebrow raised, his growling stopped; it was the omega the one in charge, and no amount of showing teeth and snarling would’ve changed such dynamic.

  “ _Breathe_.”

At the – _repeated_ – order, Harry inhaled through his nose and let everything out through his mouth, loosening the muscles of his shoulders and upper back in the reflection of a breathing technique whose goal was to alleviate pain he had been practicing for many, many years.

Eggsy dabbed the tissue on his chin and rubbed it on his lower lip, cleaning the last smears of spit and blood. “Ya alright?”

Harry wanted to answer, but as he tried to spell a simple ‘yes’, he found himself choking around a coughing fit again, body curling onto the boy’s in a frantic search for comfort.

  “Shhh, ‘s alright,” Eggsy murmured, embracing him and stroking his hair in soothing motions. “Jus’ remember to breathe.”

Face fully pressed into the _heavenly_ smelling hoodie the boy was wearing, Harry nodded, nose brushing in the recess of his armpit. There, he could suck in the warm scent of someone who had recently awakened, a mixture of light sweat, his natural smell, and a hint of the fabric softener Harry used to wash sheets and blankets with. It was a scent that screamed the word ‘mate’.

  “Ya feel any bette’?”

  “Mhh…”

  “’S that a yes?”

  “Mhh…”

Eggsy kept massaging his scalp, fingers roaming from his hairline to the nape of his neck, where the little, fine hair that grew on the line of his spine arched. “’S gonna be alright,” the boy whispered, chin propped on Harry’s head. “Yar temperature is goin’ a bit up, so I’m gonna go git somethin’ for ya to drink.”

And after leaving a kiss on the top of his head, Eggsy rose from the mattress and untied their hug. Before leaving the room, the boy’s face shined with a cheeky grin. “Don’t miss me too much, yeah?”

As Harry watched the boy walk out of the room, and his ears followed the noise of his steps descending the stairs, a sudden wave of heat struck him, and sweat was pouring again. He panted, tongue licking his lips, as he adjusted his position against the overstuffed pillow; with a damp back, remaining seated against the cotton of it could only be described as uncomfortable.

This time, the heat felt different than the one he had woken up to. It concentrated in the area of his groin, stirring his insides and cock. Under his nose, although light, Eggsy’s scent still lingered, and Harry would’ve followed the trace of it to madness.

Another wave of heat hit him right in the sternum, making his toes curl. It was his pyjama shirt, he decided, that wasn’t letting his skin cool and dry; he rose to his knees and began fighting against the fabric stuck to his back and front, trying to get it off without accidentally strangling himself with it.

After he managed to manoeuver the rumpled shirt off of his head and throw it on the ground, Harry let himself fall back on the bed, curling up around a pillow. His erection was a firm, far too recognizable form that pressed against his pyjama trousers. Whining, he began grinding his hips into the cushion, aborted motions that brought him no satisfaction. With his fangs, he grazed the pillowcase, leaving traces of rosy pink saliva on its fabric.

He wanted to bite into it, tear it into _shreds_. It wasn’t Eggsy, it didn’t smell of Eggsy, and he wanted _only_ Eggsy, and all what wasn’t Eggsy _deserved_ to be destroyed.

Growling, Harry bit into the pillow, pulling it until he heard the sound of fabric ripping and pieces of stuffing got on his tongue. Then, like an angry dog, he widened his mouth further and bit into it again, shaking his head in violent movements that ruined the pillow further. His hips kept grinding into the mattress, bringing no relief but a burning stretch of the muscles.

He spat the pillow out of his mouth; Eggsy was coming back, his scent was growing stronger. The boy was already standing in the doorway, a pleased smile lightening his face and both of his hands occupied, one by a tall glass filled with a green liquid and the other by what appeared to be – and smelled like – two strips of faux leather.

  “Look ‘t ya,” the omega smiled, a naughty expression drawn all over his features. “Bet your cock is _so_ hard, ‘Arry… all aching fo’ me.”

A desperate moan escaped his lips as he rose to his knees and sat on his heels, shoulders arched backwards so that his hands could be clasped behind his back in what he assumed was the alpha variation of a presenting position. In all his life, he had never found himself sitting in that position, not even during his worst ruts. Sitting in that fashion made his cock press against the fabric of the trousers, and he had to fight all of his instincts in order to refrain himself from buckling his hips.

Eggsy let out a pleased hum and threw the straps on the bed. “Ya look like a pup waitin’ for a treat, ya know?”

Harry wanted to answer that was _Eggsy_ , the treat, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the brown faux leather on the mattress. Small, glittering buckle shined at the end of each strap, and if his mind wasn’t as hormone fogged as it was, he would’ve began asking questions about the boy’s intentions. _But_ , his mouth remained ajar enough for him to breathe, and his eyes went to the filled glass. Although from it came only the delicate scent of mint, its green colour disturbed him.

  “Water ‘n’ mint syrup,” Eggsy explained after noticing the drawn expression of his face. “Always gotta keep a bottle wid me: keeps ya _rowdy_ ‘nd _horny_ alphas hydratated.”

Eggsy’s scent was calming him down, bringing him to a clearer mind, and so he was able to say: “I… the right word is _hydrated_ , Eggsy.”

  “Ya sure ya aren’t some _Oxford_ ,” he pronounced the name of the university with a slight distaste, “professor or some shite like dat? Now be good: this’ll help.” And as he took the necessary steps for him to reach the bed and Harry, Harry felt the room tightening around him. World and universe both were shrinking, and Harry found them focused in the omega that was raising a hand to let him drink.

  “Be good,” Eggsy murmured as he brought the glass to his lips and pushed the sweat-drenched fringe from his forehead.

The glass was cold against Harry’s lower lip, and the water had been mixed with a tad too much mint syrup for his liking, but none of that mattered, as his eyes were linked to Eggsy’s.

Eggsy who was making sure everything was going to be all right; Eggsy who didn’t want to be there but was nether less taking care of him; Eggsy who so clearly wanted to trust him and found him to be a good person; Eggsy who was giving him water; Eggsy who was a good, polite, smart and trusting boy; Eggsy who had green eyes and blonde eyelashes.

After swallowing, Harry shook his head to let him know he didn’t need to drink more, and Eggsy put the glass on the floor by the bed.

  “Eggsy, _please_ ,” he breathed, hips hitching.

  “’S that so, mhh?” He smiled and kissed the tip of his nose, the warmth of his lips making his face tingle. “You gonna show me, Harry? You gonna show me your cock?” his fingers brushed the waistband of his trousers. “Need to see if it’s not too big for me to take. Show me, _alpha_.”

A groan came out of his mouth low and high pitched as the idea of Eggsy taking his cock, riding him, letting out soft mewls and purring in satisfaction, bringing him right to the edge and keeping him _there_ , took form in his mind. “Oh, god… _please_.”

  “I said you have to show me.”

The demanding and serious voice Eggsy used left no room to talk, and he mewled softly before unclasping his fingers and bringing them to his front. The boy was watching him expectantly, waiting for him to follow the order he had just been given, but his hand went to his erection, to touch and caress it through the fabric to soothe the ache. He panted, swallowing, and he instantly found himself regretting not having drunk more.

Eggsy clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shook his head. “Maybe later I’ll let ya do dat, but now _show me_.”

Harry moaned pitifully as he took his hand off of his dick and slid his thumbs under his trousers and briefs waistband; even the contact with his own skin seemed to be _too much_ , for his poor, overexcited body. Although he was in a terribly uncomfortable position to get undressed, he managed to lower the remaining clothes he still was wearing to the middle of his thighs.

His cock sprang free, hard and leaking, and it slapped against his stomach before bobbing in the air in little movements. His hips jerked upwards, as the cool air of the room caressed his sensitive skin.

With the tail of his eye, he caught Eggsy licking his lips.

  “So big, ‘Arry…” the boy purred, moving closer. His delicious scent wrapped Harry in their spirals, and made him lean forward. “Wonder if I can take it all…” Eggsy got _closer_ , and put his hand on his shoulder. Where his palm was, Harry felt a scorching hotness. “’S makin’ me _so_ wet, alpha… ya got _no_ idea…” and he knew that… oh, how _well_ he knew that… Eggsy’s syrupy wetness was _oozing_ from his hole, and its smell impregnated the air all around them. Droll filled his mouth. Desperate, he turned his head and pressed his forehead against the boy’s arm, as if that sole contact could make the torture he was going through bearable. “Want to suck you off so bad…”

And he grabbed his cock right at the base, where the tender skin of the knot hadn’t began swelling yet, making him yelp like a poor, suffering creature. Harry wriggled for all what he could, but his hands were once again clasped behind his back, and his legs were imprisoned by the cage of his own trousers.

  “Alpha, alpha…” the omega hummed, “Can’t even close me fingers ‘round it… would feel so good in me…”

Harry kissed the boy’s wrist, nipping at the tender skin of it with his fangs.

Never he had ever ached so with the desire of kissing someone. Never he had ever been so desperate.

  “You wanna kiss me?”

  “Oh, Eggsy! _Yes_!”

  “Then come ‘n’ git yar kiss.”

In a swift movement that made his thighs burn, Harry pushed himself on his knees so that their faces were at the same height, and took the boy’s _beautiful_ and flushed face in his hands.

It was the moment _before_ the kiss, that took the breath out of his lungs, as Eggsy was waiting for him with a disclosed mouth and eyes that were disclosed _just enough_ for him to look at him through those long eyelashes of his.

He pressed his lips against the boy’s, and they were soft although chapped. With a delighted sigh, Eggsy opened his mouth and let him in. Harry sucked on his tongue, worried his lower lip, and it was far too sloppy for his own likings, but the omega was responding _so beautifully_ to his kisses, and if Eggsy enjoyed it, then he was going to do the same.

Harry was utterly lost into the kiss, as it hadn’t happened in years. His heart was aching and a knot of expectation was in his throat, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Eggsy was there, in his hands, responding enthusiastically to his licks and purring in pleasure. He couldn’t ask for anything more.

When the omega’s breath hitched and his chest heaving quickly, Harry felt his teeth press against the tip of his tongue. There was no intention of maiming, in that pressure of teeth, but a stinging sensation travelled through the whole length of his tongue in a unpleasant shiver.

They broke the kiss, a thin strand of saliva still connecting their disclosed mouths.

Eggsy’s hand was still wrapped around his engorged erection.

  “Ain’t ya a sweet, sweet alpha?”

Harry groaned, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

The hand around his cock tightened its hold further, and he could’ve swore that, right in that moment, he was able to see the stars.

  “Ain’t ya?” the clasp of Eggsy’s fingers grew tighter. “ _Ain’t ya_?”

  “Yes, yes, Eggsy! _Please_!”

His hips buckled, trying to get some relief from fucking the boy’s hand, but Eggsy was absolutely unrelenting.

  “Good boy, good alpha.”

And the hold loosened enough for him to fuck, and Harry held onto the boy’s shoulders, chest pressed to his, and _finally_ was able to run after his own relief, hips pistoning in desperation. And Eggsy, the little tart, the cheeky creature, got to his toes and reached his ear only to whisper in his ear lewd words and praises, calling him needy alpha, telling him how good he was being, such a good breeder, praising his big, hard cock, asking him how much and how many times he could come before being milked thoroughly.

And Harry panted, groaned, susceptible to any of the words the omega spoke. The contact with his skin was heavenly, the breath against his ear and neck blissful.

And as his toes were curling, stomach tightening, fingers closing in fists against the boy’s shoulder blades, Eggsy took his hand away.

Harry growled at the loss, showing all of his teeth and fangs, face crumpling into an aggressive expression. His hand left the omega’s shoulder and went to his erection to masturbate himself to completion.

Eggsy was standing there, studying him with a devilish smirk splayed on his otherwise angel-like features. Then, he shook his head and…

Then came the hit on the head of his cock.

The scream that came out of his mouth sounded nothing like a noise a human being could ever produce, and he would’ve pushed Eggsy away, if the boy hadn’t been _so_ quick. Before he could even recognize what was going on, the omega had used one of the leather straps to tie his hands behind his back.

Harry snarled and struggled to get free, and, as punishment, Eggsy slapped his cock again.

He was writhing, pain and pleasure running in his veins alongside the need to rebel to his natural alpha instincts, which were telling him he _couldn’t_ let an omega take the upper hand. And it was something he had never experienced before, and he was _so_ excited, and at the same time he wanted – he _needed_ – to get back in a position of power.

  “Harry?”

Harry hissed, showing his fangs.

Gentle as only a caring omega could be, Eggsy wrapped his fingers around the head of his cock and caressed it in soothing strokes. “’M real sorry for tying ya up, ‘Arry, believe me. But I can’t let ya be aggressive ‘n’ violent, yeah? Ya understand, right?”

Of course the boy’s safety came _before_ anything else, he understood that. And if tying his hands behind his back was the only way to make Eggsy feel safe, then he would’ve willingly accepted that. He nodded, stroking his cheek against the omega’s chest, in what was an almost pathetic attempt at scenting him all over.

  “If ya don’t feel yar hands no more ya tell me and I take it off, alright? No questions.”

Again, Harry nodded. He trusted Eggsy, and even if the boy didn’t want to free him, he could always dislodge his thumb and shake the strap from his wrists in less than twenty seconds.

  “Good alpha.” If he had been born with the ability to purr, he would’ve probably been doing so. “Do you want a kiss?”

He took his face from the hoodie and watched Eggsy in the eyes, pleading. “Yes, please, _omega_.”

Eggsy smacked a brief kiss on his lips, so light Harry thought he had imagined the heat coming from his mouth. But then, instead of stepping back and leaving him to his sufferance, the boy lingered and sighed, cupping his face with both hands, keeping him close.

  “You are so beautiful, Eggsy…”

The boy giggled, eyes sparkling in delight, and nipped at his lip before detaching. “Your hands still good?”

Harry moved his fingers one by one, then his wrists, then his shoulders. Everything seemed to be alright, if not for his wrists, which felt a little scorched, but he could survive that. “Yes, everything is still good,” he reassured the boy.

The smile that bloomed on his lips made his insides flutter.

  “Ya think ya can take a lil’ more fo’ me? Make ya all nice, ‘n’ hard, ‘n’ leakin’?”

Harry whined, as the knowledge that he couldn’t possibly take more made its way into his mind and another wave of heat was readying itself to ascend from the boiling pits of his stomach. But he wanted – oh, he _desperately_ wanted – to be good for Eggsy, and show him that he could take whatever he wanted to give, no matter if pleasurable or painful.

He ducked his head, pressed his forehead to the boy’s clad sternum, going lower and lower until his eyes were at the height of his waist and he was in what he could only recognize as a kneeling position.

A position of total and utter submission that fought with the deep and shameful pride any Hart alpha was taught since their first breath.

Now, for Eggsy he would’ve worn a collar, kneeled between his legs, got his cock caged and hands tied. Whatever Eggsy desired.

The omega placed a hand on his head, fingers spread wide. “Ya’re a good alpha, ‘Arry. Ya know it, right?” his voice was as sweet as honey, and Harry couldn’t but whine, as the boy straightened him. As he raised his eyes to the boy’s face, however, he noticed that the smirk that had lightened his features was back. Mind him, far less devilish. “Ya want to come, alpha? Good alphas get to come…”

Harry gasped, sucking air into his mouth. Never he had felt like a trained dog as in that occasion, and the pulsing, almost physical need to please Eggsy couldn’t but make things worse. And, as much as the torture had been deliciously painful, he couldn’t but ache in his own eagerness to finally orgasm.

  “Yes, please,” he begged with what remained of his voice.

Eggsy smiled and brushed his fingertips under his earlobe. Electric shivers ran up his spine and concentrated on the spot the boy had just touched, making him curl over his hand. “What did ya say?”

The sob that escaped his lips didn’t even sound like it belonged to him. “Please, _please_ , Eggsy, I’ve been good, let me come… I’ve been good.”

  “Yeah, _so_ good… best alpha.”

Harry nodded, hair sodden with sweat sticking to the sides of his face. He wanted to plead.

But before he could open his mouth to speak – pronounce his millionth ‘please’ –, Eggsy put a hand in the middle of his chest and pushed him down, on his back. Confused, Harry couldn’t but let himself fall against the mattress, eyes still on the boy.

With his arms stuck beneath his body, he had to struggle to get his legs free, and he found himself insulting the trousers still wrapped around his thighs. The fight he was having with his own limbs was burning his muscles. His cock, still hard and leaking, was now laying on his stomach, leaving a trace of scorching hot precome just below his bellybutton.

As soon as he managed to get his legs free and lips ajar to beg again, his eyes went to Eggsy, and no sound came out of his mouth.

The boy had undressed to reveal a muscular and strong built that rarely belonged to omegas. With a satisfied smirk on his face, Eggsy climbed on his stomach and straddled it, and Harry couldn’t, for the life of his, tear his gaze from his dick. It was thick, and big, and hard, and leaking from the cherry pink, engorged tip, and Harry wanted nothing more than wrap his lips around it and suck on it.

His head fell back on the mattress, and he breathed hard, letting out a small, continuous whine.

An aphrodisiac scent had spread all around them, and it was as intoxicating as it was lovely, and something was dripping on his stomach, right were the boy had seated himself. It was his slick, he realized. It was the omega’s slick, and it was _oozing_ on his belly.

His hips buckled, the tip of his cock brushing against Eggsy’s arsecheek.

  “Such a good alpha, ya are…” the boy murmured, placing both hands on his pecs and drawing his short nails on his skin, grazing over his hardened nipples. Harry hummed and closed his hands, wrists aching within their bond. Nodding seemed to be the best option, in that moment. And then Eggsy lowered himself to properly sit on his stomach, on his cock, and he was slicking it with tiny, circular motions that were coating him and bringing him to insanity. “Ya sure ya don’t manna fuck me?”

All of the alpha instincts, his whole nature and upbringing, presented to him, and Harry had to clench his teeth before he could shake his head, the thought that the boy wasn’t there out of his own volition floating in his otherwise empty mind.  “No, please, Eggsy… don’t ask again.”

The boy let out a disgruntled, disappointed noise and pouted, but didn’t stop moving his hips. “How do ya wanna come, then?” he rose to his knees again and cupped his balls, so tight and lovely, and made him watch a dollop of slick fall on his cock.

Harry wheezed, lungs tight. “So pretty, darling…”

  “Yeah, pretty, aren’t I?”

Cupping his balls with one hand, Eggsy began fingering himself with the other, fingers delving into the heat and slickness Harry wanted so desperately to touch and taste.

  “Harry, ‘Arry… ya still didn’t tell me how you’d like ta come…” the boy smiled, following the rhythm of his hips so that they could grind together, but never giving him enough to get off. Harry could only imagine that that was what people felt when they were going crazy. “Would ya like to come wid me like dis? Straddlin’ ya? Or would ya like ta come with me hand ‘round ya?” The boy’s eyes darkened, pupils blowing wide, as he prepared to ask the following question: “Would ya like to git fucked by me?”

His eyes went on the boy’s dick again, and the breathy moan that followed was anything but unexpected. “Aww… pup, Eggsy… fuck!” Pleasure was stinging in his bowels, ignoring the battle that was being thought between his mind and body; his body was closing at the suggestion of someone fucking him – it was _unnatural_ , for an alpha, to be fucked – but his mind was thriving at the fantasy of Eggsy bending him over and screwing him pliant.

  “Ah-a, ‘Arry. Ya won’t git it,” the omega shook his pointer in front of his face, close enough that Harry could feel its warmth.

  “W-why, pup?”

Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes.

Eggsy’s features bent into a sadistic smile. The smile of someone who had finally gotten their revenge. “Ya won’t bugger me for the life o’ yours, why would I do the same fo’ ya?”

A sob rose from his chest, as his gaze got blurry. “Please…”

The boy pressed his finger against his lips, and Harry kissed it, giving to it a few pathetic licks before sighing and looking up.

  “Ya can do better, can’t ya?”

At the suggestion, Harry gave it one last kiss and opened his mouth, so that Eggsy could push it on his tongue.

Harry sucked on it, slurping and swallowing and making obscene noises; a display of his oral abilities.

  “Alpha…” His gaze went to the boy’s moving lips, and he let out a little growl, teeth tightening around the phalanx still in his mouth. “Harry, listen ta me.” When the boy took his finger out of his lips, Harry growled fully, showing him his fangs and wrinkling his nose. “Harry, _stop it_.”

The growling stopped, and his face relaxed.

  “I’ll git yar hands free, _but_ I need to put the other strap in yar mouth, yeah? Make sure ya won’t bite me.”

  “Please, don’t… I promise I won’t touch you.”

  “I’m _very_ sorry, ‘Arry…”

Harry closed his eyelids and let his head rest against the mattress, the muscles of his neck relaxing, before nodding. A leather strap between his teeth, after all, wouldn’t have been so bad.

Eggsy went on his knees, just at the edge of the mattress. “Good alpha.”

At the compliment, Harry hardened his abs and pushed himself in a sitting position. To help himself stay put, he crossed his legs. “Kiss me?” he asked with a whisper of voice, and if the room hadn’t been so quiet expect for their breathing, neither of them would’ve been able to hear it.

Struggling had made his shoulders ache, and his wrists were burning, and his fingers were tingling at the loss of blood, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as his darling leaned in and breathed on his lips.

  “Sweet boy, good boy,” Harry murmured as his tongue delved into the omega’s mouth.

Their kiss was sloppy, wet, like that of two teenagers too eager to eat the other up rather than make out properly.

The boy was breathing hard into his mouth, but he didn’t seem to mind, as his arms were looped around his neck in a loose embrace.

With a sigh, his darling disclosed his lips and whispered: “Gotta untie ya, yeah?”

  “Mhh.”

Through his barely disclosed eyelashes, all clumped together with unshed tears, Eggsy looked _astounding_ , with his messed up hair, flushed cheeks, engorged lips shining with saliva. His whole body was shining with sweat, and Harry promised himself he would’ve taken a moment, when his mind would’ve been clearer, to truly appreciate the muscles of his abdomen and his thickly corded limbs.

Eggsy untied his hands with quick movements that left space to imagine that he had had much practice in such activity. “Still all there, yar fingers?”

Harry moved them one by one, and then massaged his wrists, loosening his shoulders. His hands were swollen, and so were his wrists, where red lines were crossing the skin and would’ve probably transformed into bruises in the matter of a few hours.

  “All good?” Eggsy asked again, anxious.

  “Sure, darling,” he reassured the omega. “Do what you have to,” and offered him his mouth.

With a gentle caress, Eggsy pushed his damp hair away from his forehead, freeing his face from the tendrils of his fringe, and Harry relished into the touch, nuzzling in the palm that had been offered to him, enjoying as much as he could those heartfelt strokes.

Eggsy gently pressed the strip of faux leather between his teeth and buckled it behind his head. It wouldn’t do, Harry realized, against the length of his fangs, but if that was what the boy needed to feel safe, then he wouldn’t have complained. The leather had a bitter taste and it was smooth against his tongue, and he wanted to gurgle and spit it out, but decided against it.

  “Ya right as rain or wrong as cats ‘n’ dogs?”

Harry tried to answer, but his fangs got caught in the strap and he found himself drooling all around the leather and onto his chin.

  “Ya right, yeah?”

A nod.

  “Ya’re not changin’ yar mind?”

A shake of the head. The only thing he was disappointed with was having lost the possibility to kiss the boy as he deserved.

He gnawed against the strap, growling lowly. Now that his hands were free, he had to clasp his fingers around the blankets; Eggsy hadn’t give him permission to touch him, he had to remind himself before the boy broke any barrier between them and wrapped his hand around his cock.

Having been on edge for so long, the omega’s touch felt cool and heavenly, a reward for all what he had been through in the past minutes. A territorial snarl rumbled out of his chest.

  “Ya can touch me, ‘Arry.”

And Harry did, letting his fingers run on the sweat covered skin of the thighs, of the hips, of the lower stomach, never daring to touch his erection. He was growling, shivering, because the need to bite and mark was growing stronger and stronger in his bowels. It was actually a fortune, that the darling boy had been prepared for such occasion and had strapped his mouth, because otherwise, Harry would’ve given in to all of his instincts and would’ve bitten him.

Eggsy was stroking his cock with conviction, leaving all the teasing for another time, making his eyes roll. “Look ‘t ya, all hard ‘nd drooling… can’t even wrap me fingers around ya… ya think I could take all of ya?” the naughty whisper created a whole set of pornographic images in his mind, explicit enough to make him moan.

The boy asking him to stretch him good because he couldn’t possibly take all that cock without being properly loose and wet; the boy’s face contorted in pleasure _and_ pain as Harry tenderly pushed inside of him and kissed the sides of his face; and finally, _finally_ , being able to fuck the boy’s out as he deserved, growling, gnashing his teeth, knotting him up and coming in his wet heat, grinding his hips until there wasn’t a single drop he could give more.

  “Yeah, would take a lot of work,” the voice of the omega brought him back, “but I could take ya all.”

Eggsy squeezed his growing knot, making him yelp and howl for all what the strap allowed him. Its sides were cutting through his cheeks. His fingers left bruises on the boy’s skin, the only mark he could leave on him.

  “Ya gonna come, ‘Arry? Yeah, ya are… ya can come all over me, mark me good…”

Harry was losing it; white flashes filled his sight, and everything was spinning around a pivot that seemed to be his pulsing bladder.

Without thinking, he took hold of Eggsy’s throbbing dick, and it only took a few, strong strokes to make the omega orgasm, eyes shut tight and mouth opening in a high pitched moan. His spunk, was watery, almost clear, and it sprayed on his chest, dripping onto his belly.

And his lungs could only fill with the pheromones saturated air, and the smell of satisfied omega lingered right under his nose, and his ears were filled with their laboured breaths and Eggsy’s cheeky purring, his insides twisted, toes curling and thumbs pressing into the boy’s flushed skin, and he was coming too, marking the omega’s torso.

He collapsed backwards, dragging Eggsy with him, and for a moment, as his cock began softening, he could do nothing but _breathe_ and swallow, tongue still imprisoned under the strap.

  “Good alpha,” Eggsy giggled before dipping his head and kissing his cheekbone. His hand went to the back of Harry’s head and untied the strap, taking it out of his mouth and throwing it across the room. “I _really_ can’t understand why ya needed a rent boy when ya _clearly_ are the best bed-partner.”

Harry let out a tired chuckle and kissed Eggsy’s sweaty forehead, nosing into his damp hair, where his scent was the strongest. With tender touches, he adjusted their position on the messed up bedding, so that their legs were tangled and their chests pressed together.

Although dirty and sticky with come, Harry didn’t feel the urge to get up and rinse himself off. Leaving those marks on their skins for a while wouldn’t have done any bad.

He kissed the top of Eggsy’s head.

  “The muzzle didn’t hurt ya too much, did it?”

  “No, darling. It was quite alright, in fact.”

They kept silent, cuddling until their bodies grew cool. Eggsy was, from what he could tell, falling asleep on his chest, and Harry would’ve let him, if they both weren’t covered in sticky spunk. The heat of his rut was finally leaving his mind, and the more his mind cleared, the more he realized they were in _absolutely dreadful_ conditions and he wouldn’t have let them sleep in his bed.

A shower was indeed required.

And, perhaps, a meal.

Gently, he woke Eggsy from his still light slumber by shaking his shoulder.

The boy, who clearly wanted to do nothing but linger in bed, let out a complaining noise.

  “We need to shower, dear.”

  “’S not true…”

  “Come on up, boy.” Noticing that the boy wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, he put his lips beside his ear and murmured: “Perhaps I could finger you, while we are there. Make it worth the effort of getting out of bed.”

At the offer, Eggsy’s eyelids sprang open and the boy scrumbled out of his arms and onto his feet. “Ya just ‘ad to say the right words!”

He wiggled his fingers as if to prove his point: “Then you’ll see how magic my fingers can be too,” Harry smiled, before getting on his feet and following the purring and over-excited boy to the guest bathroom.

In the en-suited bathroom of the master bedroom there was a bathtub big enough for the two of them, partly set in the floor because Harry had always found shallow tubs to be only annoying, but Eggsy couldn’t, of course, know that. Harry felt a little malevolent, as he hadn’t mentioned the possibility of taking a hot bath of pure leisure, but there was a certain charm, at the thought of showering together, that he couldn’t possibly ignore it.

When he reached the guest bathroom, the boy had already opened the water and was waiting for him under the warm spray, the door of the stall left open.

Harry gave himself a long, meaningful moment to _truly_ appreciate the boy’s body, its strong lines, glistening under the water. Droplets were running on his skin, following the deep lines of his pectorals to glide on his abdomen, where the muscles weren’t visible because covered by a thin layer of fat but were, indeed, there. A light patch of blonde – not blonde, _golden_ – hair ran down his torso to form a very happy trail, empathized by the deep V of the boy’s hips. Beside said happy trail and a light patch of hair underneath both of his armpits, the boy appeared to be entirely smooth.

Curiosity was eating Harry up, as he wondered if the boy waxed all the other parts of his body, in order to have such a smooth and controlled look, or if that had just been a peculiarity he had just been born with, seen the peculiarity of how his secondary gender presented.

“See sumethin’ of your livin’, bruv?”

Harry smirked, slowly liking his lips and leaving his mouth ajar just enough to show his fangs.

A sudden wave that carried the smell of aroused omega hit him in the chest, and if he hadn’t been wrung out by the orgasm he had just had, he would’ve probably been panting.

Instead, he leisurely walked to the shower, making a show of his body. Without fear nor cockiness, he could affirm that he was more fit than most men his age, and that he carried his years quite well too. Judging by the look on the boy’s face, he hadn’t been mistaken.

  “Ya are real ‘andsome.”

Harry stepped in the shower and pushed Eggsy against the wall, letting the lukewarm water cascade on his head and drip on his shoulders. “Well, thank you, dear.”

He stretched his back and neck, making a full show of himself and of the hair that, after being wetted, curled.

  “So ‘andsome,” Eggsy babbled before pushing himself on his toes and wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

Harry embraced him by the waist, lifting the weight off of his sole toes, and dipped in the kiss. Water was dripping in his nose at every breath intake, but he found himself to be completely uncaring of such matter; every Wednesday, if he wasn’t on mission, he went to the pool and made sure to keep both his lungs and swimming abilities up to the game. And, as far as his knowledge went, no sober person had ever drowned in the shower.

However, Eggsy wasn’t as trained as him, and his breath hitched.

As he interrupted the kiss, Harry nibbled on his lower lip and smiled, finding the omega’s loss of breath somewhat funny.

  “How aren’t ya brevvin’ ‘ard?” he slurred, licking his lips.

Harry took one of the shampoos sitting in the rounded shelf in the corner and squeezed some of it on Eggsy’s head, so that he could massage the tension out of his scalp properly. “I’ll let you know,” he pushed the boy’s head a little forward so that the water could mingle with the shampoo and make it bubbly and massage-able, “that my lungs are trained to resist for three minutes without oxygen.”

  “Yeah, already figured ya weren’t a tailor, no need to brag, bruv.”

  “How so?”

  “Wot?”

Harry washed the soap out of the boy’s hair and began rubbing his hands down the planes of his back, working his way through the many knots of his muscles and spine. “How did you figure out I’m not a tailor?”

The tailor coverage was something _Kingsman_ agent always went with, in the most mundane occasions. It was no surprise, that Merlin had presented him as one of them.

His hands kept going down, grabbed his arse-cheeks, spread them, made the boy whine and grip onto his shoulders.

  “Oh, guv,” the omega moaned in his ear, “Ya’re makin’ me git a stiffy again.” His hips buckled and he groaned, as Harry grazed just the tip of his pointer over the fluttering and beautifully slickened hole the boy offered.

  “Don’t you want to tell me, pretty omega?”

Eggsy shivered in his arms. “Yeah… first off, ya look too fit to be a tailor, ‘specially for someone in their late forties.”

  “Fifty-four.”

The boy stiffened in his arms, struggled to look at him in the eyes even if the water was making such thing almost impossible. “Oh, fuck… forreal?”

He nodded, drinking in the surprised expression on Eggsy’s face. “I was born in July 1961.”

Eggsy hugged him tighter and mumbled: “Wot the fuck am I? Lana del Rey? Gettin’ a daddy kink at the speed o’ light.”

He found himself chuckling again and slowly he pressed middle finger and ringer in, fingering the boy in his arms with a languid rhythm that made him breathe soft sighs out of contentment.

  “Pretty boy,” Harry smiled, lips pressed to the omega's sodden hair. He held the pup closer, tight around his waist. “Is that what you want?”

  “Wot?”

  “Someone who keeps you close, spanks you when you act like the cheeky brat you are, fucks you throughly every night? Someone who can keep you good and stuffed during your heat?” He lowered himself to whisper in his ear, fangs nipping on its lobe until the boy's purrs filled the shower box. His fingers were dragging on the boy's prostate, a slow and torturous stimulation that held the promise of a shattering orgasm. “Someone who spoils you like you deserve, fingers you and eats you out every night?”

The last point, Harry duly noted, tensed the boy, who curled around his body and tightened around his fingers. A shuddering breath brushed against his hair.

  “Oh, fuck! Yesyesyes, ya can eat me out, please!”

  “No one ever ate you out, pup?”

And he rammed his fingers against his prostate, making Eggsy wail and buckle, short nails digging their way into his shoulders. Harry hissed at the sudden burning pain, but soon swallowed his discomfort.

  “Once, a... an omega,” he panted, tongue lolling out of his mouth and eyes barely resisting the urge to roll. “I's goin' into heat, but the room was...” a shaky sigh, “occupied, so 'e rimmed me good. Ya'll do that, yeah?”

  “Maybe,” Harry mused, and didn't let the boy finish his whiny complain; he jammed both of his fingers on his sweet spot, no tenderness left in his actions.

The boy screamed as he came, teeth biting into the side of his neck, just below the scent gland. Harry let out another displeased hiss, but didn't detach the omega from his flesh. Instead, he kept caressing his head and holding him up, because he was too aware that his knees would've given out under his weight.

He probably crooned some sweet words too, but the freshly fucked omega scent was filling the small bathroom, and his mind was already elsewhere, preparing him for the upcoming rush of rut.

After calming the spasm of his orgasming limbs, Harry set the boy back on his feet, and Eggsy lost no time to smile and leave a small peck on his lips. His mouth tasted of blood, _his_ blood, and the sole thought of it made him unleash a full alpha growl. “Now I gotta suck ya off, alpha.”

 

Harry had always enjoyed cooking, as it was one of the things that made his mother grow mad – a Hart wasn't supposed to lower himself and put hands on the stove – and had forbidden him from doing in her house. Their meals were prepared by the cooks, who were paid to do so.

The first thing he had done, when he had left the military and his parents' house, had been buying a book of recipes – Julia Child's, to be precise. Of course, he hadn't went on a full crazy journey that concerned cooking all the recipes of the book in one year, but he had practiced his way through the madeleines, the lobster bisque, the potato soup, the reine de Saba, and had always found great enjoyment in burning his fingers and messing up his kitchen.

However, now that his muscles were all relaxed because of the _amazing_ blowjob Eggsy had given him in the shower and he was wearing nothing but his red bathrobe, Harry found that cooking lunch was even more pleasurable.

In the air, the boy's satisfied scent still lingered, alongside that of the delicious ratatouille that was cooking in the oven and of the melting chocolate he was stirring in the saucepan. The omega had said he had never had brownies, and Harry had taken one of his books with the full intention of changing that, and had already prepared a bowl of whipped cream and left the vanilla ice cream to soften out of the freezer.

  “'Arry?”

  “Yes, darling?”

The noise of a body tumbling on the floor was followed by that of fabric. “Don't come 'ere! I'm doin' sumethin'!”

His voice was muffled but cheerful, and Harry sniffled the air to make sure that there wasn't any hint of blood nor the scent of pain. After making sure that everything was well and fine with the boy, he conceded: “Don't hurt yourself!”

  “Okay!”

He kept on cooking, leaving the butter melt into the chocolate, an ear always stretched to hear what was happening in the living room. He recognized the sound of the legs of a chair scraping against the floor, and that of fabric, as if Eggsy was meddling with the blankets usually folded neatly on the couch.

When he announced lunch was ready, the pup got into the kitchen in little, joyful jumps and a big smile on his mouth, and sat at what had become his seat. “Ya know, 'Arry, ya've fed me better than nine years _there_.”

Harry put the plate of ratatouille in front of the boy, begging his mind to ignore the mathematical atrocity Eggsy had just revealed him – if the boy had been in the facility for nine years, and he didn't look a day older than twenty-five, it meant that he had been a prostitute since he had been at least sixteen. A child.

Disappointment was filling his eyes.

  “It's not of your liking?” he immediately asked, reminding himself he had to stay calm, let Eggsy taste it before going back to the stove to fix him something else. In his mind, he was already listing all of the ingredients he could remember having in the cupboard and fridge, and fretting about meals that didn't take much time to cook.

  “Wass... wass this?”

  “It's ratatouille, Eggsy.” Then, thinking about a possible food allergy, he listed the ingredients: “It's made out of peppers, tomatoes, courgettes and eggplants.”

Eggsy still didn't look convinced. “Is this like the recipe at the end o' _Ratatouille_? The movie wid the cookin' mouse?”

  “Yes, it's exactly like that. It's only served in a less concocted manner.”

  “'Kay.”

Harry sat in front of him and took a nice forkful of vegetables. “I could always fix you something else... perhaps with less produces.”

A stubborn light glistened in his green eyes as he stabbed a few slices of eggplant and tomato with his fork. Before pushing them in his mouth, he studied them, concentrated enough to look like he was considering if it could bite or be poisonous.

Then, in a swift movement quick enough that Harry's eyes almost lost it, he put the forkful in between his lips and began chewing.

Much to Harry's dismay, the stubborn expression changed to a disgusted one.

  “'S too much veggies fo' me...” he complained, pushing a piece of courgette around the plate.

Harry put his fork down and cleaned his mouth with the napkin. “Would you like to eat something else, then?”

  “Nah, bruv: a lil' veggies won't hurt me.”

And kept on eating, stuffing his mouth just like he had done the morning and the evening before.

Thousands of questions about the life he conducted at the facility were floating in his mind, and he had to bite onto his tongue to refrain himself from asking what might have been improper. They were about the boy’s upbringing, his nutrition and meals, if he had walked into the facility out of his own choice or if he had been dragged there, following the always growing number of omegas forced into sexual slavery.

But he swallowed them, and kept on eating, making light and polite conversation. Under the small table, their feet kept touching, bumping into each other.

Once they were done with their lunch, Eggsy helped him clean up the table and when the oven timer rang, it was him who took the sheet of brownies out of it.

  “Oooh, ya made ‘em!” On his face there was a light pink flush. “Thought ya were doin’ some fancy dessert!”

Harry put the last plate on the rack and dried his hands in the rug. “Of course: you asked me to.”

Eggsy beamed and took the rag out of his hands so he could tangle their fingers together. “Now I gotta show ya somethin’,” and began dragging him out of the kitchen.

Following suit that pretty and over-enthusiast boy was no chore, and Harry was quite happy to be dragged around by him.

In the living room, in the small space between the couch and the armchair, right under the window and sustained by an additional chair – taken from the dining room for sure –, there was a nest. A red blanket had been draped over the seatbacks of the sofa and of the chair, creating a little, dark and cozy tent. On the floor, Harry recognized his duvet and the blanket he kept on his bed.

The whole nest _reeked_ of him; of his sweat, of the cologne he lightly dabbed on the nape of his neck every morning, of his deororant, and under all those pungent smells, that of his skin, soap and shampoo.

  “Waddaya think?”

Eggsy’s expectant voice broke his heart, shattered it like a piece of glass under the unforgiving force of a hammer, and suddenly he was tearing up, wrapping the boy in a suffocanting hug.

Omegas built their nests only in places they trusted, where they knew they would’ve been safe for them to have their heats and birth their pups. It was the ultimate act of trust, the sign that they put all of their faith in the people with them.

And Eggsy was giving him just that.

  “Awww… did I make ya cry?”

Harry sniffled and cradled his head, pressing kisses into his hair.

Purring, Eggsy giggled sweetly and nibbled on his dressing gown. “Ya’re such a big guy, bruv, but ya’re a real softie.”

With two fingers under his chin, Harry made him raise his face so that their lips could meet. The pup’s mouth had the taste of tomatoes, and the flavour was sour on his tongue.

He sighed, as he knew he couldn’t have been happier.

 

The nest was unfairly comfortable, all padded with blankets, duvets and pillows, and the boy himself was the softest pillow the world could offer.

  “Is yar rut doin’ okay?”

Harry nodded, rubbing his face on the boy’s chest, and refused to open his eyes.

They were tangled together, one of his legs between Eggsy’s, and his head abandoned right above his sternum, where he could hear both his purring and the beating of his heart. The omega’s fingertips were grazing across the planes of his back, touching and caressing here and there, as light as a feather.

  “Harry?”

  “Yes, Eggsy?”

  “Can I ask ya a question?”

  “Well, you already did,” Harry giggled at his own joke.

The boy huffed. “Other two, then?”

  “Oh…” he complained, having had his little game already ruined.

  “Why is a smarty-panty alpha gentleman like ya widout a mate?” A beat. “I mean… I know I already asked ya, but ya didn’t answer me and, like… omegas throw ‘emselves at blokes like ya, ya git me? I mean… I would.”

Harry chuckled and rose to his elbows, propping them at the sides of the pup’s flat abdomen.

Dipping his head to leave a path of kisses on the boy’s shirt clad sternum. He moved upwards, listening to Eggsy’s breath hitch and his purring get intenser, and leaving soft pecks in the hollow of his throat, on his Adam’s apple, under his chin, on his lower lip, on the bridge of his nose, and between his eyebrows, before changing his route to kiss gently both of his eyelids.

Eggsy was beautiful like that, relaxed and completely trusting, encased between his arms and legs, pressed down by his weight. A rumbling growl left his chest, but the pup recognized it as a sound of protection – if not devotion – and let him snarl, only his hands were moving to caress his lower back.

An urge deep in his stomach wanted him to sink his fangs into the boy’s scent gland, and, although the pup was probably able to smell his desire, he didn’t move, ever so trusting. He was waiting for his well-earned answer in a placid tranquillity.

Framing his beautiful face with both hands felt natural, as something expected of him, and nuzzling into his cheek seemed to come from an ancestral instinct he had always owned without knowing.

The boy moved with him, rubbing their noses together, opening his mouth slightly to let him know he was ready and willing to kiss.

  “I’ve never been in love,” Harry explained against the angle of the omega’s lips. With the tip of his nose he kept caressing his cheek. In the darkness of his closed eyes, and in the intimacy of the nest, and in the warmness of Eggsy’s arms, there were no shame, no regret, no lonely nights. “Never had someone to come home to. Never… never had a relationship that lasted more than six months.”

Eggsy was caressing his head in circling patterns. “Ya shouldn’t push luve away…”

  “I’m not.”

  “ _Bruv_.”

Harry groaned and kissed the pup’s jaw before rolling off of him and lay at his side, their shoulders pressed together. “Maybe.”

The boy took his hand and squeezed his fingers. “Harry, ya’re a ‘andsome man. ‘Andsome ‘nd gentle. _And_ your cock’s honestly fuckin’ huge.” They both chuckled. “ _And_ ya know how to finger an omega good and pliant, whilist makin’ some real pussy wettin’ dirty talkin’. It’s _obvious_ ya push other away…” A beat, and Harry heard him sniffle the air: “Yar rut’s comin’ back.”

  “Well then… Eggsy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Roll other, because I’m going to show you that I _also_ have a great talent in eating out smart mouthed omega pups who want to psychoanalyze me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: renaissancewasbetter.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: renaissancewasbetter.tumblr.com
> 
> I'm kind of accepting prompts...? I write mosly Merthur, Merwaine, Gradence and, obviously, Hartwin. And I'm Italian, so... if you want Harry speaking genuine Italian... just ask...?
> 
> Thank you very much for reading!


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